■ , ■ ; 
■ '•. 


! 




1 

!! 

1 


: I 

■ - 




■1 
ii 





^j05«^* 



^Snggjigop^ 




-iJJnJr^0W..'f7A. r,: 



IN THE 



^tjabniu 0f tiit drag 

(A STORY OF THE NORTH) 

AND OTHER POEMS 

BY 




San Francisco; 

WALTER N. BRUNT COMPANY 

1906 






i> 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 

Two Copies Received 

APR 12 1906 

7 Copyright Entry 
CLASS CI Ac. NO. 
CaPY B. 



Copyright, 1906 

By MABEL PORTER PITTS. 

All Riskts Reseived 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG 

A STORY OF THE NORTH 

AND OTHER POEMS 



CONTENTS. 



Awakening (The) 206 

"A Dios" 133 

An Episode 137 

An Old Letter Case 207 

Apothegms for the Idle 239 

At San Juan Capistrano 94 

Barriers . 248 

Beside the Bier 149 

Burden (The) 174 

Benediction (The) 128 

Blindness 204 

Bridge (The) 123 

Be Kind 110 

Child of Nature (A) 251 

Companions 209 

Carol (A) 187 

Don't Worry 191 

Day Dream (A) 273 

Dreams 160 

Dreamer (The) 98 

Desecration 227 

Elusive (The) 265 

Earth's Lesson 87 

Earth-Call (The) 90 

Earth-Love 272 



CONTENTS. 



For Love of the Burden 133 

Finis . 243 

Fallacies 258 

Grandest Thing (The) 198 

Golden Gate (The) 232 

Galley Slave (The) . 247 

Greater Victory (The) 92 

Groping 246 

"Give! Give!" 168 

His Answer 231 

Here, and There 260 

Hope 138 

In Meditation . 105 

In Retrospection 190 

If You Had Known 173 

I Thank Thee 211 

In Lotus Land 152 

Inevitable (The) 224 

In Mission Dolores Churchyard .... 234 

In the Shady Places 253 

In the Shadow of the Crag 1 

John Bradford's Prayer 176 

Love's Enemy 167 

Love's Victory 186 

Love's Lament 120 

Life 242 

Love's Recompense 183 

Love's Span 148 

Life's Mirage 252 

Lovers' Tryst (The) 112 

Love's Aberration 245 



CONTENTS. 



Love's Reign 316 

Love- Plaint (The) 93 

Life of Yesterday (The) 213 

Lest We Grow Too Content 256 

Love's Fallacies 178 

Man's Love 122 

Medici's New Year (The) 119 

Miser's Song (The) 241 

My Plea 179 

Man and Woman of It (The) 236 

Man's Heritage 124 

New Year Bell (The) 215 

On the Little Sandy 171 

On Laurel Hill 121 

Of the Nancy Pryne 202 

On the Tamalpais Slope 229 

Past (The) 156 

. 136 

180 
. 200 

199 
. 193 

129 
. 118 

218 
. 165 

255 
. 145 



Phantom (The) . . 

Picture (A) . 

Prayer (The) . . . . 

Punishment (The) 

Pessimist (The) 

Passing of the Tivoli (The) 

Penalty (The) 

Pole-Seekers (The) . 

Paradox (A) . 

"Poetic Choir" (The) . . 

Poppy (The) . . . . 



Quatrains 275 

Retrospectus 161 



CONTENTS. 



Rose (The) 143 

Recompense 164 

Road of a Great Desire (The) 182 

Rose of Monterey (The) 150 

Regeneration 259 

Satiety 106 

Satan's Toast 127 

Star (The) 222 

Siren (The) 140 

Spanish Serenade (A) 166 

Suicide (The) 134 

Spectator (A) 263 

To Manuela 212 

To My Pipe 142 

To-Day's Royalist . . . . . . . 194 

To Jessica 153 

To Tombstone II 159 

Then as Now 88 

To THE Old Year 249 

To Ethel 225 

To My Books 184 

Uncertainty 257 

Voice of Silence (The) 125 

Voyagers (The) 189 

Voice of Nature (The) 157 

Wanton (The) 99 

Which Does Not Matter to You .... 154 

With Love at Your Side 267 

Woman's Constancy (A) 101 

When Love Betrays 96 

Woman's Destiny 268 



CONTENTS. 



When Christ Is Risen 221 

Where All Is Vanity 261 

Will You Recall Me? 237 

Who Pays? 162 

With You to Show the Way 378 

What King? 144 

Water Sprite (The) 103 

When Passes the Flame 170 

With Nature 217 

Woman . 196 

Yesterday (A) 109 

You Who Love Me 270 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Iii a village in the Northland where the end- 
less wreaths of snow 

Smooth the ice-blocks' rugged edges choking 
fast the Yukon's flow, 

Where the frost in form fantastic traces vines 

and flow'rs and leaves 
On the dwellings' low-browed windows half 

concealed beneath the eaves, 

Traces roses pale as ashes, roses cold and 

dead and gray 
As the blossoms of a passion that the heart 

knew yesterday, 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CKAG. 

Lived a woman blest with beauty fair as blush 
of summer's dawn. 

Eyes akin to English bluebells that the dew- 
drops tremble on. 

Hair as tawny as the rush-grass limp be- 
neath the sun's embrace, 

And each changing, new emotion adding glory 
to her face. 

Here she lived, her hopes, ambitions all but 

turned to sounding brass 
By the mock'ry of chimeras darkly shading 

fortune's glass 

In the days of earnest seeking, when the 

thing desired but seemed, 
And with stubborn will to follow where the 

light of metal gleamed. 

Hope will live within the bosom while the 

light of life endures, 
Men will follow blind, and eager, where the 

ignis fatuus lures, 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

And the suff 'rings of such marches, and the 

woes of such stampedes, 
And the pictures full with pathos where the 

soul of pity feeds, 

And heroic acts of mercy, not forgot though 

left untold. 
Prove man's reason, only, bartered, that his 

heart is still unsold. 

There is that within our being, give it name 

the one who can. 
Shining God-like in man's pity and humanity 

to man. 

And the primal good, forgotten through the 

drift of human will. 
Stirs the soul, however crippled, to some 

memory of it still. 

Rumor comes on north wind blowing, vague. 

and wild, as rumor can, 
Of a storied El Dorado rich beyond the ken 

of man. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Like a fever comes the rumor, sweeping bare 
the httle town, 

Leaving naught but empty cabins, cold, be- 
neath the winter's frown ; 

Cabins looming dark and cheerless, with their 

windows blank and dead 
As the sightless eyes of mortals when the 

spark of life is fled ; 

Doors, left half ajar, are filling with the drift 
of falling snow. 

Bleak as though by man deserted half a cen- 
tury ago. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



II. 



Ah, llie white-storni, velvet- footed, ah, the 

treacherous, the cold, 
Creeping", creeping' to the bosom, there with 

taloned clutch to hold. 

Tricking with its soft embraces, kissing with 

its fateful breath, 
Loosing not its fascination till the heart lie 

hushed in death ; 

Ah. the white-storm, ah, the cruel, settling 

close on brook and mound, 
Smoothing out the hollow places on the high, 

uneven ground, 

Masking hill and lake and river in its clinging 

cloak of white, 
And in sullen anger sweeping through the 

Vv'eirdness of the night ! 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Oil an upward pathway wending, toiling pain- 
fully, and slow, 

Moving in uncertain fashion through the 
trackless waste of snow. 

Are a helpless man and woman, fighting hard 

for life and breath. 
All dismayed, for in the ice-wreaths they have 

seen the Silent Death ; 

They have seen his haggard features, they 
have watched his measured stride. 

And they know that he is with them, walking 
silent at their side; 

If they falter, lo, they perish : if they pause. 

he claims his own. 
And they pray for help to heaven, for the 

world is turned to stone. 

Where is now the wish for riches, where the 

hope in earthly things. 
Where the music in the siren song the golden 

guinea sings? 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Lo. ambition's fleeting^ vision mocks the slowh' 

glazing eye 
And the world is sodden ashes when a man is 

marked to die. 

O'er the leaden sky comes flashing slender 

spires of ghostly light 
Showing where the white-storm's forces seek 

a bivouac for the night, 

Showing outposts wheel and vanish with 
their conquering banners furled 

As if touched with sudden pity for a tortured, 
helpless world. 

Through the void come sounds of weeping. 

incoherent words, and wild. 
And the father presses roughly to his heart 

his weeping child ; 

"O, my daughter, well-beloved! O, my 

daughter, mine bereft ! 
'"Angels guard thee, for in chaos thou hast no 

protector left. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

"Rest thy head upon my bosom, let me feel 
thy hand in mine — 

"Daughter, seest thou the splendor of a dis- 
tant city shine? 

"Heard'st thou not that sweet voice utter 
words which thrill my weary breast, 

" 'Come to me, thy work is ended, come to 
me, for I am rest?' 

"Fare thee well, my dear beloved, o'er rough 

seas we long have sailed, 
"I have tried to make safe harbor, I have 

tried, and I have failed. 

"Though the night of death divide us, lost 
the way that we have trod, 

"Still I know that 'dawn will find us some- 
where 'neath the smile of God.' " 

O, the Northland, callous hearted, vast and 

cold and bleak and bare. 
How may prayers reach out to heaven from 

such desert of despair? 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Comes the voice that slowly failing begs in 

accents faint and low, 
"Sing the song we love, my daughter, sing it 

once before I go ; 

"Sing, 'twill help my trembling spirit find tho 
Light that marks the goal — " 

Then from out the dark comes floating, "Jesus, 
lover of my soul," 

And the night-bird stops to listen — "Let me 

to Thy bosom fly," 
Breath of north wind, strangely tempered, 

sighs o'er him about to die, 

And the song to frenzied cry turns when his 
struggling soul has passed. 

"Father, to Thy haven guide him, O, receive 
him Thine, at last." 

And the night is spent and weary, and the 

dawn is near at hand. 
And a soul has left the lesson it could never 

understand, 



IN THE SHAUUW OF THE CRAG. 

But perhaps the tangled problem will one 

day be clearer shown 
When the man shall stand unhampered in 

the glory of the throne. 



10 



IN THE SHADOW OF THK CKAG. 



III. 



Through the hoar frost crimson pennons of 

the dawn begin to show 
And the crystal ice-spars ghsten with an 

iridescent glow. 

In far distant lands, and kinder, when the 

day begins to dawn, 
Comes a chirrup from the tree tops and an 

answer from the lawn, 

From some neighboring branch's shelter goes 

a flutter and a cry 
And the matin song of Nature sweeps the 

gold-empurpled sky, 

All is motion, all is gladness, happy in re- 
turning light. 

Not the dead, oppressive stillness of this 
gleaming waste of white, 



11 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CKAG. 

Not this silence, hushed and Hfeless as the 

shadowed face of Fate. 
Brooding ever on the secret locked within its 

ice-bound gate ; 

Here, no hills that call to meadows where 

cool, babbling rivers run, 
Here, no joyous cry of greeting from the 

children of the sun. 

Yet the horizon, dull tinted, shows faint mo- 
tion in the east, 

Signs of life that make the wildness seem in 
loneliness increased. 

Clear, and clearer, shows the outline 'gainst 

the stretch of yellow sky 
And the startled air rolls pulsing underneath 

the hunter's cry. 

Tokohoma, lithe and supple, Tokohoma, strong 

and brave. 
Lord of all these sullen acres, lord of land, of 

air, of wave. 



12 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG, 

Lord, by right of full possession, where no 

stranger forms intrude, 
He, a chieftain, undisputed, reigns o'er realms 

of solitude. 

And he conies on fleet foot speeding over 

white, uncharted tracts. 
Storming, fearlessly, the ice-blocks in the 

frozen cataracts. 

Spurning drift on drift that, gleaming like 
great milestones bleak and cold, 

Mark the path of this new Hermes swift of 
foot as he of old. 

Now he pauses, stoops, and, seeming, ques- 
tions something that is dumb. 

Then darts back like winged arrow, back on 
way so lately come. 

And the startled white grouse question the 

astonished face of dawn, 
"Where his course ?" and, "What his mission ?" 

Ere the answer, he is gone. 



13 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Gone, with doubt each hope defying, gone, 
with pain of anxious breath, 

Gone, on wings of fear fast flying, racing 
with the phantom death ; 

Muscles tense, and nostrils swelling, back, 
still back, each white drift rolls, 

Tokohoma pressing closer to his heart the 
thing he holds. 

North, still north, till on his vision, lo, there 

falls a welcome sight. 
Rounded mound of snow-house glist'ning in 

its new found dome of white. 

Then, quick passes through its portal to the 

haven of his quest. 
Worn and wan, this Hermes, clasping still 

his burden to his breast ; 

Burden strangely limp and lifeless, burden 

fair as shines the sun, 
Burden for which Tokohoma neck to neck 

with death has run. 



14 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

But the stretch is still uncovered, still un- 
certain lies the goal — 

Down upon his knees he drops, then, in his 
agony of soul. 

With his mind in dread commotion and his 

heart in frenzied storm 
While he tears the fur-lined wrappings from 

the unresisting form ; 

First, his own skin coat of sable he had 

wrapped about her there 
When lie found her by her father, lost, within 

the storm-god's lair. 

Then complexities of garments that he does 

not understand. 
Frail and feminine, that perish underneath 
his unskilled hand, 

And the white arm lies before him in its still- 
ness of repose, 

And the tender throat as pulseless as is beauty 
in the snows. 



15 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

How he chafes her arms, her body, with no 

moment's pause for rest, 
How he turns his timid glances from the glory 

of her breast, 

How all hope goes out and darkness of de- 
spair creeps in its place 

As he, breathless, seeks some evidence of life 
within her face, 

How he labors long and tireless till the thing 

he prays is done, 
Let the melting snow-drift tell you as it fades 

beneath the sun. 

Swift a tide of feeling sweeps him when slight 

sign of life returns. 
Giving place to new emotions where deep 

earnestness still burns. 

And his trembling hand slow falters where 

so firm has been his touch 
Now that death is partly vanquished and the 

foe has eased its clutch. 



16 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



With the tenderness of womnu he quick 

clothes tlie waking form, 
Lays it gently on heaped wolfskin, fox, and 

brown seal, soft and warm, 

Then withdraws a little distance resting pen- 
sive in his place. 

Looking with a deep emotion on the beauty 
of her face ; 

Through his brain whirl dreams, traditions, 

glints of fragmentary lore. 
Foolish fancies of his people scarcely credited 

before, 

But of Fate none dares to cjuestion, and the 

thing will be she wills, 
And a feeling strange and sacred Tokohoma's 

being thrills. 

"Have you come?" he softly murmurs, "Has 
the promise, then, been kept? 

"O, my queen, you near did perish, death so 
close to you had crept. 



17 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

"I near lost you ere I found you. such the 

Hmit of man's pow'r, 
"Destiny he knows awaits him yet he cannot 

name the hour. 

"Have you come? Some import tells me the 
prophetic word was true, 

"And my soul to doubting question ever an- 
swers, 'It is you.' 

"It is you, of whose vague coming council 

graybeards ofttimes spoke, 
"It is you, whose sacred mission was to lift 

my people's yoke, 

"It is you, your way swung hither, as on 

orbit swings the star, 
"Queen for me, and for my people, scattered. 

lost and strayed afar; 

"All are gone, the winds of heaven from the 
four points breathe their name, 

"None is warrior, now, nor hunter, unmo- 
lested feed the game ; 



18 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

"They have sunk to trade, to barter, nor resent 

the white man's jibe, 
"And their chief, ashamed, self-exiled, stands 

a chief without a tribe. 

"You are come, your course appointed you 

are helpless in your fate, 
"You should be a queen of nations, not a 

tribeless chieftain's mate, 

"You should look on deeds of valor and praise 
victories well won, 

"And review your fearless warriors number- 
less beneath the sun — 

"Yet you may not. It is written you are 

mine to have, to hold, 
"You will love me — so the graybeards spake 

in prophecy of old." 

Life returns, and comes prophetic, as it 
should, through troubled moan. 

And the face of Tokohoma like another face 
has grown ; 



19 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

All emotions quickly conquered now in depth 

of shadow rest, 
In his look no trace of tumult that so lately 

swept his breast 

For the bird must not be 'frighted though 
to flame his heart be fanned, 

Not until she comes to love him can he make 
her understand. 

Doubt that she will love him henceforth will 

be foreign to his mind. 
He has questioned, and decided, question now 

is left behind 

And his heart, untamed and simple, wakens 

to one sole desire 
And in crucible of beauty, lo, is left there 

molten fire. 

Calm he stands, the strength of manhood 
marked in wild, unstudied grace 

And his dark eyes showing blacker 'gainst 
the fairness of his face. 



30 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



IV. 



There are times when breath is bitter ; there 
are times when life is dust ; 

There are times the tortured soul cries out 
against the body's rust ; 

There are times when adverse waters sweep 
Hfe's ship with fateful roar, 

When oblivion were better than to strand 
upon the shore. 

She who lies there scarce accredits that tlic 

fires of life still burn, 
Thoughts, in slow and halting fashion, back 

o'er snow-framed pictures turn, 

And vague mem'ry dawning clearer to a better 

sense of grief 
Wakes to find but keener anguish in its 

efforts for relief. 



21 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Tokohonia wails the turning of the quick- 
ening pulses' flow, 

Sees the lips' and cheeks' gray pallor to faint 
shade of crimson grow. 

Watches dark- fringed eyelids quiver as they 

feel the life-tide rise 
And, at last, his soul meets, melting, that 

strange glory of her eyes. 

Kindness, nature's common language, speaks 
when helpless lips are dumb. 

Through it babe and painted savage to sweet 
understanding come. 

Through it all the blighting stigma of a life 

may be enfurled. 
Through it once a man was given to arouse a 

sleeping world. 

She divines this simple kindness that within 

his glances rest 
And a storm of bitter weeping sweeps the 

tumult of her breast. 



22 



IN THE SHADOVN' Ul" THE CRAG. 

Naught she asks of how she came here, 
naught of question dimly Hghts 

Mind distraught that, heavy burdened, takes 
as yet but halting flights, 

'Tis enough a fellow creature sympathizes 

with despair. 
Anguish questions not of glances that the look 

of pity wear ; 

Out to him her arms she holds then in impas- 
sioned way and wild 

And he soothes her bitter moaning as a father 
soothes his child. 

Long she sobs till founts of anguish hold no 

more of tears to weep. 
Till exhaustion, mast'ring sorrow, yields it up 

to troubled sleep. 

And she wakes to days of fever, wakes to 

nights of bitter pain. 
Only Tokohoma conscious of how long she 

thus has lain. 



23 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Only Tokohoma knowing how was watched 

each fitful breath, 
How was fought a second battle with the 

dreaded wraith of death. 

How a second time he, victor, hid the joy of 

what he felt. 
And the great white silence, only, heard, "I 

thank Thee," as he knelt. 



'M 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



V. 



As beneath its woe of winter cold and sombre 

lies the earth, 
As the naked shrubs, Hke mortals, moan their 
doubt of life's rebirth, 

As the rivers shroud their faces in their mourn- 
ing cloaks of sno\v 

So do human hearts, dull-burdened, 'neath 
grief's winter, sunless grow. 

Tokohoma tries to lighten in these convales- 
cent days 

That faint smile, more sad than weeping, that 
upon her pale lip plays ; 

Not immoved by kind endeavor, though from 

grief no nearer wooed. 
She, to please him, smiles a little, such the 

sense of gratitude. 



25 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

After tempest comes the sunshine, after winter 

comes the spring. 
Not forever shall the mourning cry through 

sorrow's cavern ring; 

Tokohoma sees the roses on pale cheeks begin 

to glow, 
Sees faint hope, again transcendent, o'er the 

darkness radiance throw. 

In these days he searches mem'ry for stray 

threads of useful art, 
In these days the thing projected holds some 

impress of his heart, 

In these days the deerskin wrapping, thong of 

hide, and belt of fur 
Take strange tints of unguessed beauty, since 

he fashions them for her. 

By her couch he sits whole evenings, resting 

pensive hand on cheek. 
Joyous if she give commission, happy if she 

will but speak; 



26 



IN THE SHADOW OF Tllli CKAO. 

ITnreservedly she tells him of the vagrant 

hopes that start, 
Of desires long since relinquished that were 

wont to fret her heart. 

Thus he has small need to question of the 

things that he would learn, 
Thus her heart an open book is, and its leaves 

in sequence turn 

While he reads the broken story of a life still 

young in years 
But deep bowed with age when looked at 
through its mist of blurring tears. 

These, the lines that touch her deepest, are 

the ones most often read 
Though the plans that lie transcribed there are 

reviewed as projects dead; 

As the moth with hurt wing flutters round 

the candle's dying beams. 
So does man forever hover near the wreckage 

of his dreams. 



27 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



In the trend of daily converse froth thoughts 

float like ocean foam. 
And from beat of inward tumult rises oft the 

word of "Home." 

Hcrne, that place of peace, of comfort, where 

the weary heart can rest, 
Home, that word which strikes vibrating on 

the gnarld strings of the breast ! 

Tokohoma vaguely gathers from her, now, 

repose of mind. 
That this cherished dream, like others, has 

been sadly left behind. 

And a surging thought sweeps o'er him, as 
o'er pine-tops sweeps the blast. 

Leaving him unsteady, swaying, when the 
fevered thrill has past. 

Leaving him in deep emotion that is near 

akin to prayer 
y\nd his brow full-flushed in beauty by the 

thought it shelters there. 



88 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

When her strength is well recovered then he 
leaves her for a space, 

To return each night with niyst'ry overspread- 
ing all his face. 

To her questions of his absence he gives pre- 
text ever new 

And close guards each word lest inkling of 
his secret filter through. 

Dawning suns see busy fingers shaping crude 

things into form, 
Flurried snow-flakes pause to question ere 

they merge within the storm, 

Help of hope in light transcendent seems to 

shine from gift above, 
All of toil is zephyr lightness when the task 

is that of love ; 

And the day stands golden lettered in the 

shifting sands that run 
When, triumphant, Tokohoma views his 

heart's great labor done. 



29 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

O, the joy that sweeps the Northland, close 

to anguish deep allied. 
On that day when Tokohonia finds the frail 

one at his side 

Out among his bleak possessions, ringed afar 

by gleaming heights, 
Out beneath the changing weirdness of the 

restless northern lights ; 

Through the dusk of noonday glitter discs 
of silver, touched with gold, 

Where the sun-dogs pierce the hoar frost 
hanging sinister and cold ; 

Naught so poignant or impressive here, where 

sovereign forces meet, 
As the sense of desolation that is crushing 

and complete. 

Soon, when nearer things are noticed, she a 

tiny cabin sees, 
Outlined yonder near the snow-house 'gainst 

a ground of distant trees ; 



30 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

There her instinct quickly answers questions 
she has long repressed 

And a strange emotion flutters, like a weak- 
ness, in her breast. 

Tokohoma, watching mutely, tries her pur- 
pose to divine, 

Ere she turns and utters simply, "Let us 
enter. It is mine." 

Quietly she takes possession, quietly essays 

to speak, 
Burning rose and pallid lily alternating in 

her cheek. 

And as scattered sea-drift whispers of that 

wealth the wave conceals, 
So her kindly smile is index to the gratitude 

she feels. 

In no time of their abiding, strange, and in- 
timate, and fleet, 

Has the pulse of Tokohoma in such wanton 
fashion beat; 



31 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

She, unconscious of his weakness, seeks new 

wonders to extol. 
While he trembles lest his secret burst the 

bond of stern control. 

When the dearth of simple objects leaves no 

more to be admired, 
Down she sinks on rug" of wolfskin like a 

child with laughter tired, 

Noting, still, her strange possessions, prais- 
ing, still, with ling'ring glance. 

Searching close lest any treasure has been 
overlooked by chance, 

And when all but well decided as her eyes 

sweep walls and floor. 
Yonder sees some shining object she had let 

escape before. 

Quickly come to where it glistens, wide of 

eye and hushed of breath, 
O'er her rounded cheek swift sweeping 

spreads a pallor gray as death. 



33 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

From its place she lifts a necklace, crude of 

workmanship and plan, 
Nuggets, linked in simple fashion, large and 

small, a circlet span, 

And her hesitating fingers o'er each rough- 
ened surface play 

While she questions Tokohoma in repressed 
and rapid way: 

How he came by their possession? What 
their story? Where their source? 

Looking back her way seems swung here 
by some strange and occult force. 

She, like every artless dreamer, hopeful for 

the thing long planned. 
Sees a fate in each occurrence that she fails 

to understand ; 

And she waits for confirmation of the thing 
already guessed, 

But his answer breathes evasion, clearly leav- 
ing much suppressed ; 



33 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



And he begs that she will tell him what the 

power is, ere he speaks. 
That so swift has changed the color of the 

damask of her cheeks ; 

What the force is that for ages has not 

loosed its mystic hold 
On the heart that in the white man, lusts to 

clasp the yellow gold. 

And she answers, speaking softly in her 
earnestness of tone, 

Every word imbued with color from the sor- 
rows she has known : 

"Gold is talisman for evil, gold is happiness, 

is rest, 
"Gold is balm for every sorrow that assails 

the human breast, 

"Gold is guide for them that struggle in the 

sea of daily strife, 
"Gold is counselor, magician, gold is beauty, 

gold is life ; 

34 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG, 



"Gold is synonym for honor, it is glory, it is 
fame, 

•'Gold's a crutch for social cripples with ob- 
scurity of name, 

"Gold a trickster is, its palmings e'en the 

skeptical convince, 
"For its lack proclaims the peon, its abundance 

names the prince. 

"Bv it race, and caste, and teachings all are 

leveled in a breath : 
"It makes equal slave and master as effectually 

as death, 

"And so full it taints and tinges all that fancy 

may behold 
"That its power scales even heaven to bespeak 

the streets of gold : 

"In the sky the moon hangs golden, golden 

shines the sun above, 
"Gold is head, and heart, and feeling, gold is 

friendship, gold is love." 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CKAG. 

Seeing then that Tokohoma deeply on each 

word attends, 
She, in tone half grave, half jesting, that a 

lighter humor lends, 

Adds, "These Midas gifts, as fleeting as the 
breath that scents the rose. 

Are for thee, too, could men name thee Prince 
of Gold, thou Prince of Snows." 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



VI. 



Like a great white sphinx the Northland Hes 

implacable and dread ; 
Dull and gray the arch of heaven frowns, 

low-bending, overhead ; 

Sullen snow-fields, void of luster, rest be- 
neath a pulseless sky, 

Stretch on stretch of space spreads empty, 
undisturbed by call or cry; 

Silence wraps the lake and river, silence 

shrouds the copse and hill, 
Sound is 'frighted by the silence and remains 

forever still ; 

What of life is here speeds noiseless, appre- 
hensive, and afraid, 

Ever fearful of some horror unaccountably 
delayed. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Here is heard no soothing rustle from the 

leaves of swaying trees, 
Here is seen no dancing ripples spraying 

shores of inland seas, 

Here the mocking northlight ilashes in a 

jagged arc of red. 
Here the earth lies wan and ghastly, to its 

soul benumbed and dead ; 

Here the phantom dusk slow merges into 

weird, fantastic night. 
And a mighty hush low crouches on eternal 

beds of white. 

In the west rise towering mountains. b\' a 

river interlaced. 
Whose approach is dragon-guarded, tier on 

tier, by glistening waste ; 

Rugged boulders, javelin-pointed, rise dis- 

puters of the way. 
Black abysses spread their pitfalls to entrap 

unwary prey ; 



38 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Precipices roughly threaten where had 

seemed an open path. 
Yawning chasms breathe the story of some 

deep, insatiate wrath, 

Noxious gases, slowly lifting, merge within 

the ruling frost. 
Deeply sprung from such weird darkness 

that their origin is lost. 

On one towering peak, that rises more for- 
bidding than the rest. 

Is a giant crag hung midway, sheer and dread, 
'twixt base and crest; 

Far above it walls of granite shimmer to a 

giddy height. 
Far beneath a cliff drops darkly into mystery 

and night. 

Here no mark of wandering hoof-beat strays 

to scar the crusted snows, 
Here formidable defenses guard the great 

crag's bleak repose. 

39 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Here the wild, aggressive aspect softening 

drifts cannot efface, 
And a heart inured to danger well may pause 

in such a place. 

To the rock there seems appended some dis- 
cernible approach, 

Though great boulders mar its outline and 
though frozen streams encroach; 

Years, long years, with brow dark beetling, 
it has scowled on hill and plain, 

Years, long years, its glooming shadow on 
the mountain's breast has lain. 

When the Spring unclasps the river from its 

long-locked icy sheath, 
Then a second crag floats trembling in the 

waters far beneath, 

And the white-finned salmon darting where 

the depths of crystal gleam 
Shun the shade that wavers darkly as it falls 

athwart the stream. 



40 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG, 

Vague tradition wraps in shadow deeper still 

the jagged crest, 
And far out upon the seacoast where the red 

sun gilds the West 

Lives a tale of how a warrior bore the death 

he rightly won 
Who designed to lead a paleface to the 

Great Crag of the Sun. 

One dull dawn, before the ghost-light fades 

beneath advancing day, 
Over drifts that lie unbroken Tokohoma 

takes his way ; 

North he speeds o'er rising uplands that de- 
flect toward the west. 

Where the Great Crag, looming darkly, stirs 
strange tumult in his breast ; 

Many times its rugged outline he has traced 
against the sky, 

Many times its sober grandeur has com- 
pelled his heart and eye, 



41 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Though famiUar with its phases as it rises 

bleak and sheer, 
Yet he ne'er has braved its shadow but with 

superstitious fear. 

Soon the plain is left behind him stretching 

far toward the east, 
And he turns to face new hazards that each 

moment are increased. 

Cautiously he goes, and slowly, in the hush 

of bated breath. 
For who braves the Crag's dominions braves 

them hand in hand with death. 

Giant rocks must be surmounted, shad'wy 

chasms must be crossed, 
Shallow footholds forced in ice-blocks where 

the mountain streams have tossed. 

Spines of jagged rock are pathways swung 

between the earth and sky, 
Where his heart must beat courageous if he 

have no wish to die. 



42 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Here he skirts a ledge, long riven by the 

force of some past shock. 
Where lie fossil ferns em])edded in the strata 

of the rock ; 

Here is shunned a pit smooth-crusted by its 

overhanging drifts 
Fairy edged in feathery hoar frost trembling 

lightly in the rifts. 

Where this fissure yawns abysmal to a depth 

of fearful gloom 
Is the spot the redskin traitor met the horror 

of his doom. 

Tokohoma nears its darkness. He must leap 

it. It is done. 
And he sinks fatigued and breathless at the 

Great Crag of the Sun. , 

Here he rests till day comes bursting o'er 

the plain in angry red. 
Till the lurid light beats fiercely on the rock 

swung overhead, 



43 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Then he rises, stands a moment, like a sinner 

unconfessed, 
Who, enamored of his weakness, cannot 

pluck it from his breast, 

And with glances strangely solemn watches 

shadows change and lift 
To disclose beneath the Great Crag, in the 

ledge, a narrow rift 

With a vaulted arch beyond it stretching back- 
ward into gloom, 

Wrapped in dread and heavy silence like the 
hush within a tomb. 

Here he enters, recent struggle marked in lines 
upon his face 

Set in stolid resolution no conviction may dis- 
place. 

In a calm of deadened feeling, like a swimmer, 

cramped and numb. 
Who sinks passive 'neath the waters he has 

failed to overcome. 



44 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAO. 

Scarce his eyes become accustomed to the 

cavern's lesser Hght 
Than his skiggish fancy quickens to one 

sweeping, backward flight ; 

Sacred pledges, oaths, traditions, crowd the 

cave's forbidden door. 
But the pictures are unwelcome, he resolves 

to look no more. 

And he turns where broken stratum, virgin 

vein, and glist'ning bed 
Show the velvet yellow changing to a fierce 

and sullen red 

'Neath a shaft of sunlight piercing like a 

knife-blade keen and thin 
Through the dark to probe the secret of the 

mystery within. 

Gold is here, pure, unpolluted by the hand of 

want or greed, 
Though the heart of many a chieftain has 

been tempted in his need. 



45 



4 

IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

But a breast may beat with honor though de- 
nied emblazed device, 

And a man's a man, though redskin, and may 
stand beyond a price. 

Through injustice, through privation, through 
the white man's threat and bribe. 

Has the secret been close guarded by the trust- 
ed of the tribe. 

It had been a hope, a safeguard, should tiieir 

landholds be assailed. 
It was held a final resource when all other 

means had failed. 

For themselves, such garish bauble it were in 

them to des]:)ise 
But each knew the fascination that it shed for 

other eyes,. 

And the vague, uncertain future was a theme 

for lesser fear 
With such ward against the season when the 

paleface should appear. 

46 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

And he came. The moaning pine boughs .sway 

beneath the polar star 
To repeat the old, old story of the lands that 

lie afar, 

Teepees gone, and lodges empt}-, confiscate 
by law of might 

And the redman, naked, vanished into nothing- 
ness and night. 

Then it was that graybeard councils gazing 

o'er their broken host 
Swore to circumvent the white man in the 

thing he wished the most. 

And each calmed his outraged bosom when 

despoiled and overrun 
By an oath to keep the secret of the Great 

Crag of the Sun. 

Hasten, hasten, Tokohoma ! Work while thou 
hast yet the day. 

Let no sacred pledge deter thee, let no retro- 
spect delay. 

47 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Fuller pile thy mooseskin pouches till their 

space can hold no more. 
Work, proud prince, forget that labor ne'er 

has soiled thy hands before. 

Work, and quell that cry within thee that goes 
harking through the years 

Back to suff'rings of thy people, men's priva- 
tions, women's tears, 

And forget that near the Yukon where the 

white man spreads his tent 
Glide, at intervals, strange figures with their 

gray locks lowly bent 

That abide awhile unquestioned, like to souls 

that stand exempt, 
To observe the strife for riches with grim, 

satisfied contempt — 

That come somewhere from the silence to be 

seen awhile of men 
Then, with cloaks close wrapped about them, 

back to silence sink again. 



48 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Hasten, hasten, Tokohoma. let no scruple 

stay thy hand, 
Who has erred he will forgfive thee, who has 

loved will understand. 

Hesitate no more upon it, clear thy heart of 

fretting" doubt. 
Act, and if thou may'st, with honor, if thou 

niay'st not, then without. 

Ofttimcs what has loomed enormous dwindles 

when the thing be done, 
Thus th\' project, with the gauntlet of thy 

superstitions run. 

Thou, a Croesus, heard'st that spoken which 
through all thy being thrilled 

Yet doth stand, like others, grieving for a wish 
still unfulfilled? 

Hast thou dreamed, perhaps, that somewhere 
something might be held unsold? 

Hast thou fear of limitation for this sullen, 
glist'ninGf ro\c\ ? 



49 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Ease thy mind. O Tokohoma. work while thou 

hast day above. 
"Gold is head, and heart, and feeling, it is 

friendship, it is love." 



sn 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



VII. 

Life within the snow-house settles to a sem- 
blance of repose ; 

Every day, like that before it. void of interest 
comes and goes, 

Every day a deeper damask shades the con- 
valescent's cheek 

And a lig-hter tone breaks gently where but 
grief was wont to speak. 

Hope will live while life can struggle, biding 
fortune's adverse moods 

And from sorrow comes a patience that re- 
bukes vicissitudes. 

She who had despaired now rallies as the lag- 
gard days go by 

And inclines to'ard hope, through instinct, for 
to lose it were to die. 



51 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Surely naught of hope Hes yonder where bleak 

glaciers mark the south, 
Surely naught of promise glistens in the river's 

ice-choked mouth, 

Yet she clings in stubborn courage that the 

North alone can give 
To some undefined impression that is hope in 

things that live. 

Tokohoma tends his game snares going out 

each day at dawn 
To retrace each feath'ry footmark ere the 

mists of morn are gone ; 

When the drifts are deeply crusted and when 

clement winds abide 
He is seen on plain and upland, a companion 

by his side. 

Oft their forms are silhouetted on the dull 

sky's yellow rim 
As they swing o'er rise and lowland, strong 

of breath and free of limb. 



52 



In the shadow of the crag. 



Hindered by no clinging garments, wearied 

by no useless dress 
She who stands in fur and buckskin stands a 

woman none the less 

With the touch sublime and subtle, deeply ly- 
ing, that defies 

Any form of garb to change it, any custom to 
disguise. 

Mile on mile is quickly covered over stretches 

bleak and bare — 
Thus she finds the panacea that can cope 

against despair, 

Thus contrives to tire her body that all thought 

may be at rest 
And remains abroad the longer when her heart 

is most distressed. 

Tokohoma ne'er surmises what is passing in 

her mind. 
In his self-hallucination he remains content 

and blind. 



53 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

And construes to suit his pleasure sighs 

that inadvertent start 
While she feeds, all unsuspecting, the strange 

passion of his heart. 

Time conies round when such long rambles fail 

to bring the peace desired 
When against her hopeful courage all the 

Northland seems conspired ; 

Its great, glistening plains appal her, its relent- 
lessness affrights, 

Menace taints the gloomy story its forbidding- 
finger writes 

And she ofttimes seeks the shelter of the cabin 
tired, unnerved, 

There to shut away the picture, there to sor- 
row unobserved. 

There to feel the hope for succor sink beneath 

assailing doubt 
And a poignant dread steal o'er her of those 

silent wavs without. 



54 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

One day prostrate thus, but hiding each dis- 
tress of heart and mind 

Lest the tears should seem ungrateful, and the 
discontent unkind. 

One day, just as twilight darkens to the shade 

that evening wears 
And she bends in deep attention o'er her 

meager household cares. 

Far from out the void comes trembling that 
which makes her pulses start. 

That which holds the blood suspended in the 
ways that touch her heart ; 

Something vague, and yet apparent, tangible, 

and still unreal. 
Seems to spread in widening circles and 

through all the Northland steal : 

Something undefined, elusive, that a moment 

fills the pause 
Lying 'twixt her heart's sensations and the 

question of the cause, 

55 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Loud, then soft, then sunk to nothing, as each 
air-gust fades and swells, 

Intermittent sound and silence like the rhyth- 
mic swing of bells. 

On the wind seems borne the fragment of a 

trailing, broken word. 
Quick she turns, but Tokohoma gives no sign 

if he has heard, 

And she scarce has lent attention to her small 

pursuits again, 
Checking what she would have spoken, pond'- 

ring what it may have been, 

When a gust of stronger pressure sweeping 

past the cabin door 
Brings the sound in vibrant measure, this time 

louder than before. 

This time there is no mistaking, this time 

Tokohoma hears. 
Quick he gains the cabin doorway, through the 

purpling twilight peers 



56 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

To behold a muffled figure swinging o'er the 

dark'ning snow, 
And to meet a sakitation sounded in a deep 

"Hallo!" 

Scarcely is the greeting answered, scarce the 

first surprise is o'er. 
Ere the dogs and sled sweep circling to a 

halt before the door; 

Here they loom unreal and spectral in the 

slow declining light 
While the stranger's hearty accents beg a 

shelter for the night. 

It is said, by them that sufifer, that despair 

alone can kill. 
These have never known the anguish of a great 
joy's sudden thrill. 

She, within, stands tense and rigid, like to one 

of power bereft, 
And, from out fast merging senses, finds but 

expectation left 



57 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

When at last they stand together in the half 

lit, low walled place, 
Deep and differing" emotions showing plainly 

in each face. 

O, what energy is wasted in pursuit of false 

desires ! 
O, what sacrifices redden, feeding useless altar 

fires! 

Through the world we seek life's touchstone, 
ardently, from sun to sun, 

And the hour 'tis least expected, lo, the won- 
drous thing is done. 

And 'tis not the wealth of wisdom, and 'tis 
not the glint of gold. 

It is not the thing long dreamed of, that ob- 
tained, we priceless hold 

But a rainbow tinted bubble showing, to aston- 
ished eyes. 

Giant plan and cherished purpose dwarft to 
things of pigmy size ; 

58 



IN TlEJE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

And the shimm'ring^ opalescence that fills 

earth and sky above 
Is the old, familiar story, which is all, for it 

is love. 

In the time it takes the glances to observe the 
lightning's sheen 

It was done, yet not so quickly but one watch- 
ing there has seen ; 

In the redman dormant passions to their 

channels w^ildly set 
As the look of maid and stranger tell that 

kindred souls have met. 



59 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



VIII. 

When we love, the thing that frets us is un- 

wilHngly beHeved, 
We are wroth with doubts of warning, happier, 

far, to be deceived ; 

Some strange madness holds us sanguine e'en 

beneath suspicion's frown 
And we scarce admit disaster when our house 

of cards goes down. 

So it is with Tokohoma when the first wild 

flush is o'er. 
When the inward tumult settles to the calm it 

knew before, 

With the difference that his passions now 

awakened to distrust 
Lie, a lake of seething lava, straining at the 

broken crust. 



«o 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

But he makes each doubt subservient to the 

hope that love inspires 
And continues bHnd and stubborn in the way 

of his desires. 

Many morns have now been numbered by 
the sun's uncertain light 

Since the stranger begged the favor of a shel- 
ter for the night. 

When came troops of urgent promptings that 

he should resume his way 
Compromise would 'wait on duty to result in 

fresh delay. 

She of gentle heart, full naively, all her sweet 
persuasion lends 

And through days of happy converse the pro- 
tracted stay extends ; 

Time is tuned to love and raptures that no 

further wish comprise 
Than the priv'lege of confession, told already 

through the eyes. 



61 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Life takes on a brighter color in the days that 
follow this, 

All the Northland seems transfigured as be- 
neath an angel's kiss ; 

Maid and lover find new beauty in the vari- 

tinted sky. 
Watch together bright plumed eagles that, 

o'er hilltops, circling fly. 

Hunt the home of snowflowers nestling in the 

bosom of the drifts 
And explore, like happy children, caves of 

overhanging rifts. 

Sometimes, in excess of spirits, when she lifts 

her voice in song 
It is heard by Tokohoma, faintly, as he 

speeds along 

With his steps still to'ard the darkness of the 
Great Crag in the west 

And the hope of love still vibrant to each pulse- 
beat of his breast. 



63 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Since that night of jealous anp^er when the 

stranger first appeared 
He has held in leash his passions and dismissed 

the things he feared. 

Tis his way with mooted questions to re- 
volve them o'er and o'er, 

But when once they are decided to revert to 
them no more. 

Thus his usual projects find him with a clear. 

untroubled mind, 
\\'ith no anxious doubt attaching to the pair 

he leaves behind. 

Who, their happy love indulging, greet each 

other at the dawn 
With no thought of Tokohoma save that he 

abroad is gone. 

Glad that day is here before them where the 

darkness late has been 
Glad to roam their snow-ringed Eden giv'n 

to love each other in, 



63 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Still they watch the sun-shafts brighten 
through the overhanging haze 

All unskilled to read the secret of those tower- 
ing peaks they praise, 



All unconscious that the Great Crag shows 
beneath the rising sun, 

That the work will, 'neath its shadow, in a lit- 
tle time be done. 

Love, confessed, at last lies tranquil 'neath 

contentment that it brings 
And the talk of maid and stranger turns again 

to other things ; 

Plan and project half forgotten in the joys 

that nearer pressed 
Now return with deeper interest, fevered 

with the old unrest. 

When the lover shares the secret of his mission 

there, it seems 
Warp and woof of that frail fabric which the 

substance is of dreams ; 



64 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Deep the story is with interest, he who tells 

it halts for breath 
Like to him from whom he iiad it ere his lips 

were sealed in death. 

Meager word he has for guidance, mem'ry 

only serves for plan, 
But 'tis here, this wealth of Croesus, in the 

circle of a span. 

Once again the North is calling with the siren 

voice of old, 
(jnce again ambition trembles with the lust 

for yellow gold. 

(jnce again the tinkling sledge-bells fret the 

silence of the dawn 
And return to find the snow-house when the 

shades of night are drawn. 

Da}s are spent in fruitless effort, empty search, 

and useless toil, 
Hope sustained on that which fails it must 

upon itself recoil. 



65 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

But the sting of disappointment when the 
primal pain is o'er, 

Leaves the stranger still as eager, and as san- 
guine as before. 

Thus he spends the time indulging old am- 
bitions, hope compels ; 

Thus each night the maid who loves him 
listens, listens, for the bells. 

And their distant, muffled echo lightl}- tossed 
from mound to mound 

Rolls but faint, still all her being leaps respon- 
sive to the sound. 

Yet, at times, come vague present'ments, that, 

in terror, hold her dumb; 
What if never from the silence should the 

sledge-bells tinkling come? 

What if yonder sun declining mark the epoch 

with its beams 
When her soul shall wake to torment from the 

joy of empty dreams? 

66 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Thus, full oft, she frets her spirit with the 

pain of love's alarms, 
Thus, full oft, misgivings vanish, fading 'neath 

protecting arms. 

Once, when such grave dread assails her that 

her eyes o'erflow with tears. 
And her lover soothes with kisses all her doubts 

and foolish fears, 

One approaching to'ard the cabin where a 

ling'ring sunbeam plays, 
Stops without to view the picture, as it were, 

through crimson haze ; 

From his back, as is his custom, flings his game 

upon the floor. 
But omits the usual greeting as he steps within 

the door. 



67 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



IX. 



^lorn across the endless snow-fields creeps re- 

Inctantly and gray. 
Loath to mock the dead, bleak silence with the 

light of coming day, 

Heavy o'er each hill and river slow it steals 

with laggard feet 
Where the hoar frost clings ui garlands like 

a mold'ring winding-sheet; 

It would seem that some stray life-throb 
should, at dawn, in gladness start 

But the whole white stretch lies pulseless, cold 
and sullen to its heart. 

Yet about the cabin yonder signs of waking 

motion shows. 
But 'tis alien to the landscape and the great 
North's grim repose. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



First the sledge- clo,a;s start the echoes to an- 
nounce that nipht is fled 

Sprinj^ino- up to greet the sunhght from each 
warm, snow-burrowed bed. 

From the snow-house comes the stranger. 

drowsy still beneath some dream 
Half regretting- that 'twas broken b}- the 

clamor of the team. 

All night long had sleep been troubled, all 
night long had shadows pressed 

Round his couch to lend discomfort and with 
discord fill his breast ; 

Faces had, in wanton fashion flashing by, re- 
signed their place 

To a mask, that came and vanished, like to 
Tokohoma's face. 

But when day in listless motion o'er the hills 

began to creep 
Then his troubled mind had drifted to a calmer. 

sweeter sleep. 



69 



llSr THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Filled with vagrant fancies merging to a better, 
happier trend 

That the outcry from the sledge-dogs inter- 
rupted ere the end. 

Soon the eager team, full harnessed, stands 

impatient for the start, 
Once again the lover, turning, holds the maiden 

to his heart, 

Who, with that vague fear upon her which 
from too great love will grow, 

Closely clings to him in silence, strangely 
loath to let him go. 

When his form is but a shadow in the dis- 
tance these alarms 

Haunt her still and through perverseness seem 
to mock her empty arms ; 

But to quell each fond misgiving soon more 

cheerful thoughts arise, 
Sanguine dreams of fairer countries bring back 

hope to wistful eyes, 



70 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

She, pretending, reads the future from the 

book's unopened leaves 
With attention keenly busy on the woof that 
fancy weaves. 

All day long she feels the promise of a happier 

fortune spring, 
All day long bright hopes around her like a 

benediction cling 

And when night across the Northland in a 

heavy pall is drawn 
She, in doubt, can scarce accredit that the 

happy day is gone. 

Household duties now commanding, quick she 

trims a feeble light, 
Stops between her cares to listen to the noises 

of the night; 

Something yonder, tense and sullen, sweeps 
the earth with broken moan, 

She who hears stands dumb and rigid like an 
image carved in stone. 



71 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Far. far out, each surging air-gust fateful 

forces swift invites — 
This the sound is that, full-swelling, spoke of 

death that night of nights ! 

Round the hut stray, hurried snowflakes com- 
ing forces half reveal, 

Bitter cold through chink and cranny pierces 
like the thrust of steel. 

In the lulls that come abruptly, quick succeed- 
ing fitful swells. 

She, within, in deep attention, once more 
listens for the bells. 

Once more hears their muffled music roll along 

the changing mounds 
Once more marks each tinkling cadence trail 

away in broken sounds, 

Once more waits within the cabin where such 

happiness has been 
Till the low-browed door shall open and her 

lover enter in. 



78 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG, 



Footsteps o'er the snow come creaking to an- 
nounce him near, at last. 

Soon the cahin door swings shiv'ring- from 
before a l)iting- blast 

That sweeps walls, and floor, and ceiling. 

shrieking lond in mad delight. 
Then whirls back, past Tokohoma. to be 

lost within the night. 

For the time that spans a moment still he 

stands without remark. 
Strangely tall his stalwart figure looms 

against the outer dark. 

In his black hair frost wreaths glisten, snow- 
flakes fleck his wolfskin coat, 

Torn, perhaps by jagged boulders, and loose 
hanging at the throat. 

Sullenly at last he enters, to all outward pres- 
ence blind. 

Deeply sunk 'twould seem in problems that 
revolve within his mind. 



73 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Lightly moves the maid preparing that which 

forms the evening meal, 
But full oft to'ard Tokohoma do her furtive 

glances steal ; 

To her mind come wild suggestions that her 

inmost soul rejects, 
She refuses as preposterous this strange thing 

she half suspects ; 

Then the truth comes full upon her sharp, con- 
vincing, clear defined. 

And explains much bitter rancor in the heart 
once known as kind. 

As the falcon stares bewildered when first 
loosed from jess and hood 

So she, dazed, now looks on actions until now 
misunderstood ; 

In the light of this revealing she becomes con- 
fused and dumb — 

They must go, herself and lover, lest some 
fearful evil come. 



74 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Tokohoma, sitting silent, makes as if he would 

arise, 
There seems menace in his action, there seems 

madness in his eyes ; 

O'er the maid sweep vague present'ments, 
what they are she scarce can say, 

But her heart reads evil omen in her lover's 
long delay. 

In this drift of speculation time has passed 
not marked before, 

Up she starts, alarmed and anxious, swift pro- 
ceeds toward the door 

And when faint and all but sinking 'neath the 

problem of her doubt 
Tokohoma flashes past her and in frenzy 

rushes out. 

Out, far out, his form soon merges in the 

shadows of the west ; 
Out, far out, with dread emotions storming 

fiercely in his breast, 



75 



IN. THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Glad he is to wlii]) tlirough wind-g'usts sweep- 
ing- Ijy with broken wail, 

Glad he is to buft'et forces marshalled for the 
gathering gale ; 

Swift he spurns each ice-clad boulder, hocilless 

passes trap and lure. 
Scorns to cling where shallow footholds mark 

the way as insecure, 

Wildly leaps each drift and chasm, desp'ratc 

till the goal be won 
And at last stands torn and bleeding 'neath 

the Great Crag of the Sun. 

Scudding clouds that fly wind driven, show a 

path of ghostly light 
Where the pale moon, hanging distant, seems 

to mock the frozen night. 

In a patch of open sky-line where the forces 

thinly set 
Tokohoma's storm-swept figure shows in inky 

silhouette ; 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

He, like one in sudden madness, bares his 

temples to the blast, 
Caring not for dangers present, dwelling not 

on dangers past; 

He disdains each giant wind-gust that assails 

his eerie place 
And that lifts his hair and flings it like a 

whip across his face 

But he feels no outward lashing of his passion 

driven form 
And his wild, disheveled hgure seems the 

spirit of the storm. 

Once, his arms he stretches upward like to one 

who bears the pain 
Of a grief, that grown to crush him, he no 

lunger may sustain, 

Then, as if to thwart emotions out of which 

such weakness grew. 
Quickly turns toward the cavern and the work 

left still to do. 



77 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

When desires that love has cherished, when the 

Hfe that love has planned 
Fade away in swift destruction ere we come to 

understand, 

Then 'tis not the final wrecking of our hopes 

that rends the heart 
But the looking on the dumb things that have 

been of love a part. 

Tokohoma takes the pouches, one by one, from 

out their place 
And a wave of tender feeling hotly burns 

within his face ; 

Dreams are here, and fancied projects, in these 

mooseskin pouches rolled, 
Hopes and sweet anticipations, garnered with 

the gathered gold ; 

Here are gentle thoughts compelling to'ard 

the love he hoped to win 
And beneath each thong some life-drop of his 

heart is fastened in. 



78 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Rouse thyself, O Tokohoma, let thy inner 

soul be dumb ; 
Is it royal prince, or woman, that can thus be 

overcome ? 

Thou hast seen a star swing hither and its 

orbit touched thy course — 
It has passed — thy way is yonder, true to thy 

compelling force. 

Rouse thyself and let the temper of thy fathers 

in thee speak, 
Let thy manhood shame the weakness showing 

pallid on thy cheek, 

And the work that brought thee hither, let it 

be completely done. 
It is well that hope should end here where thy 

folly was begun. 

Then, beneath the crag is motion that would 

kin to frenzy seem, 
In the fitful light quick flashes that which 

shows with velvet gleam; 



79 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Down, deep down, through space descending;. 

hard and yellow, shining, cold. 
Leaps, with sudden flings and dashes, hoard on 

hoard of glist'ning gold : 

Down it springs like bright blades flashing, 
each removed from shrouding sheath. 

Till it hides within the shadows of the river 
far beneath. 

When at last the task is ended Tokohoma turns 

his face 
And looks long toward the cabin, standing 

rigid in his place ; 

In his pose is that intenseness of a question 

deep involved. 
In his look that indecision of a purpose half 

resolved ; 

But he turns aside suggestions, holding one 

alone exempt 
And at last this, too, dismisses with a gesture 

of contempt. 



so 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CKAG. 

Wild and strange his form in shadow marks 

itself against the light 
As he turns and sets sharp northward to be lost 

within the night. 



SI 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



X. 



When the storm is spent and morning in the 

curtained east is shown 
Then the Northland, cold and empty, comes 

again into its own. 

Naught disturbs the lonely distance save a 

cry that spreads afar 
As a wolf, on crouching haunches, points his 

nose toward a star. 

Landmarks that were things familiar lie in- 
consequent and strange ; 

Where was life now seems existent some mute 
evidence of change, 

Restless snow-drifts hedge the cabin and the 
snow-house close about 

And the paths before their doorways are for- 
ever blotted out. 



82 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

Like a wraith, the chill of morning through the 

hut, unhindered, steals 
And it writes in silver tracings of the things 

the light reveals. 

Yet it can record no motion that the distant 

dawn awoke 
Save that from the lamp, still burning, trails a 

line of quiv'ring smoke; 

Too, a sheet of snow, thin drifted, creeps 

across the cabin floor 
Like a restless ghost, and yonder, just outside 

the open door, 

Tiny whirls of powd'ry lightness hiss against 

a growing mound 
That has ris'n to hide beneath it what has 

stained the frozen ground. 

Fitful gusts of wind, sharp circling, quickly 

fill each sunken rift 
Covering close the sledge's burden lying 

deep within the drift. 



83 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 

When the laggard sun, slow mounting, gives 

the day a deeper glow 
Then is shown two quiet figures outlined 

'neath the drifted snow, 

One a man's is. all unconscious that his blood- 
less lips are pressed 

1)}- a woman, who. still kneeling, clasps her 
lover to her breast. 

In the North the air hangs heavy 'neath the 

silence of the years 
And the wind moans low and broken rs it 

sweeps between the spheres. 



84 



EARTH S LESSON. 



EARTH'S LESSON. 



Why should we not bring smiles instead of tears 
To lay upon the altar-stone of God? 
Why hold beliefs of superstitious years 
That dwarf the spirit with discordant fears 
And outrage flesh with harsh, insulting rod? 

Why should we not come singing to the throne 
With hearts that in ebulliency of joy 
Seem bursting from their cells, too narrow grown? 
O, why should man reap nothing of the sown 
But tares, and all the beautiful destroy? 

The feast is spread and we are asked to dine ; 

What sullenness of temper does it show 

To rudely turn from kindly proffered wine 

And pass with shielded eyes where splendors shine. 

The Father never meant it should be so. 



87 



THEN AS NOW 



Sing, sing fair earth, till every silent throat 
Responds unto the life-song of your sod 
And thunder-sounding rolls each swelling note 
And teach us by your own sweet, simple rote 
To smile beneath the kindlv smile of God. 



THEN AS NOW. 

Long, long ago when butterflies 
Could converse hold, and let men know 
Their wants, they caught the traits of men 
-Vs I will undertake to show. 



Two butterflies were winging past 
King Solomon's temple, grand and vast ; 
From touch of wing and foolish flutter 
'Twas plain unto the most benighted, 
Their troth had just that day been plighted. 



88 



THEN AS NOW. 



Like maid perplexed when blushes come, 
>.iy r,ady Butterfly was dumb, 
r.nt, bursting with his own importance. 
Aly great Lord Butterfly, loquacious. 
Spoke of himself in way audacious. 

"You see }on temple, dear," he said ; 
She answered, "Yes." by nod of head ; 
"Well, with my wing, all down encovered. 
I easily those pillars, polished. 
Could tumble at your feet, demolished." 

This bold remark was overheard 

By Solomon : "Upon my word 

Who ever knew such braggart boasting?" 

Then calling him aside, demanded 

Why he should lie thus open-handed. 

Returning to his mate at last, 

She, woman-like, asked what had passed ; 

And he, man-like, to stop at nothing 

So, with eclat, he might come through it. 

Replied, "Pie asked me not to do it." 



89 



THE EARTH-CALL. 



THE EARTH-CALL. 

To you, in cowl and gown. 

Who stand aloof with hands crossed on your 

breast 
And patient head Lowed down, 
Do wild thoughts ever come? 
Do ghosts of former hours now long since spent 
In phantom shape renew the joys they lent 
And hold you in their vagaries of air ; 
Do yon at times awake to find your prayer 
Forgotten, and lips dumb? 

Beneath that sober garb 

Do vagrant longings ever stir to vex 

Your heart with cruel barb? 

Do dreams you thought long crushed 

Rush full upon you o'er your weakening will 

And make your pulses leap with quickening thrill? 

What guilty blush is this that stains your cheek? 



90 



THE EARTH-CALL. 



The scourge, the scourge for one avowed so weak 
Till lawlessness is hushed. 

Do voices from the throng. 

Strange, weird world-voices, ever reach your heart 

And still your matin song? 

Do you, too, ever seem 

To see the better happiness afar 

And, when 'tis day, long for the night's pale star. 

Then, scarce the night comes, wish the day again? 

Your lot is but the common lot of men ; 

Back to vour beads — to dream. 



91 



THE GREATER VICTORY. 



THE GREATER VICTORY. 

There was a way. a joy. a mystic, unnamed thinj^ 

A dreamer sought — 
As vague as air that's troubled by a swallow's 
wing — 
Ideal, intangil)le, and shadow-fraught. 



Impossible it seemed, so much it held desired, 

So much implied, 
So near, yet so remote ; uncertainty conspired 

To make it seem by distance deified. 



One day the prize was gained ; he struggled 
through despair, 
Through ways defiled. 
To grasp a poisoned cup ; the watching world 
stood there 
And so he pressed it to his lips and smiled. 



92 



THE LUVE-PLAINT. 



THE LOVE-PLAINT. 

For my love and me 

How the robins sang in the greenwood tree, 

How the great bell's voice 

In the church afar made the hills rejoice 

For my love and me. 

On the sun-kissed lea, 

Where the wanton flower lures the roving bee, 

There we rested long. 

And the whole world throbbed to the passion-song 

Of my love and me. 

Ah, my love and me. 

How we creep afar lest the world shall see 

What my arms enfold ; 

O, the way is long and the world is cold 

For my love and me. 



93 



AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. 



AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO*. 

The story runs thus : "Twas a sabbath morn 

So still that no leaf of the tasseled corn 

Which weighted the stalks in the neighb'ring field 

By rustle or tremor a breeze revealed ; 

A pastoral scene that was fair to view, 

With cattle in clover-flecked fields of dew, 

And the sun just touching with burnished gold 

San Juan Capristrano, the mission old. 

With them that kneel down 'neath its arches, dim, 
In the love of their hearts to remember Him 
Is she, who, low-bowed in her place of prayer, 
Seems shunned by the faithful who gather there ; 
Bright feminine eyes on her fair face rest, 
On her rounded arm and her swelling breast. 
And each seems inclined to deny assent 
To beauty that sins and is penitent. 

Out yonder a silence shrouds copse and hill 
And fastens the valley within its thrill ; 
A ponderous terror that creeps along 
And hushes the notes of the thrush's song, 



94 



AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. 



A sullen, intangible, grewsome thing. 
The shadow, unseen, of a monster-wing, 
That gathers the steeps in its mystic clutch 
And palsies the air with mesmeric touch. 

The animate harken ; the silence speaks ; 
Back flashes the answer in fear-blanched cheeks, 
And horrors, half dreamed of, suspended lie 
In the beat of the breath and the wid'ning eye ; 
A rumble, a rending, a power compressed 
That tortures the hills with its deep unrest, 
A shiver, a pause, then the temblor's hurled 
In the white of its wrath on a helpless world. 

The mystery gathers within the dell 
And hushes the sound of the mission bell. 
It razes the stones with its lev'ling rod 
And crushes the cries that are raised to God. 
No soul, in the chapel, that felt its breath 
But rushed to the doors to a frenzied death 
Save her who was shunned ; lest her faint heart fail 
She had knelt, in her faith, at the altar rail. 



*When the proud old mission at Capistrano was tumbled 
by an earthquake the arch over the altar was the only one 
that stood. 



95 



WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. 



WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. 

The banshee frets the night with dismal cry : 
Some twenty times across the wind-swept dune 
I've heard it come, now shrill, now scarce a sigh 
That floats beneath the weird and pallid moon 
Like some dread echo moaning in reply. 

Your lover soon will come ; rest yet awhile 
Till yonder length'ning shadow darkly dips 
And lays its finger on the sleeping dial, 
Then wake the heavy silence of your lips 
And rouse their languor to a welcome smile. 

Who knocks without? You are impatient, friend, 
But eager lover knows not how to wait. 
Perhaps your mistress in good time will send 
And raise the hopes that droop disconsolate. 
Have patience, doors must open, nights must end. 



96 



WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. 



What ! Yet again ? Could you, beyond the door, 
Behold the stillness of this covered thing, 
This huddled horror prone upon the floor 
And watch the growth of yonder eddying ring 
I wonder would you seek admittance more? 

How near that cr\- ! Could I have heard aright ? 
It seemed to live within the very room. 
What fiend conspires to fill me with affright? 
^"ague portents breathe within the murky gloom 
And fraught with menace is the sullen night. 

What work, what work, to show to-morrow's sun. 
O. why, poor weakling, why did you not live 
And keep unstained these sands so nearly run? 

:;; * >;: :|; * t- * * :;= * =!= * 

Now, you without ! let Fate her verdict give 
What life shal' answer for the thins: I've done. 



9T 



THE DREAMER. 



THE DREAMER 

My way is this : To rest in the shade 
Deep in the dusk of some whispering glade 
Drowsily happy and satisfied ; 
Great are the wonders that grow apace 
Out of the heart of such hallowed place ; 
Weird with a theme I may not repeat 
Pipes of Pan lull me with music sweet ; 
Few know the path from the highway wide 
To way that is mine, in the shade, aside. 

My way is this : Apart from the strife, 

Far from the tumult of clamorous life, 

Courting the comfort the throng denied, 

Having no care when the day is done 

If I shall look on to-morrow's sun ; 

Glad in the light of the thing that seems, 

Happy to live in my idle dreams. 

This is no highway the world may ride, 

This wav that is mine, in the shade, aside. 



98 



THE WANTON, 



THE WANTON. 



1 planted a rose in the sandy soil of an 

unkept garden bare, 
It fastened its roots down deep m the earth 

and lifted its head in the air, 
It flung its arms to the summer's sky and 

opened its heart to the sun. 
And seductively pressed its lips to the breeze 

in joy of the deed I had done. 

Its crimson heart was as red and sweet as the 

lips of a woman I knew, 
And I came to liken the wanton thing to her 

beauty as it grew. 
It would blush and pant in the sun's hot ray 

and tremble with sweet delight 
As the southern wind pressed warm and close 

to its heart in the sultry night. 

tOFC. 

99 



THE WANTON. 



It Aould quiver and bend as the passionate 

wind pressed close with hot caress, 
And nod and sigh as the bees flew by and 

flirt its scarlet dress. 
I grew to hate its wanton way, despise its 

heart of flame. 
Abhor its maddening sweetness, withheld 

from none who came. 

So I crushed its life in my hand one day, in 

passion its roots uptore. 
And panting with shame and anger gazed on 

my unkept ground once more, 
I loudly laughed in savage joy to show the 

world my scorn. 
But pressed my heart with my bleeding hand 

to hide the o'ash of a thorn. 



100 



A WOMAN S CONSTANCY. 



A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY. 



A barren road lies parching- in the sun ; 
Its drear monotony and tiresome length 
Drag on. and threaten never to have done. 

I toil along the rough, uneven way 

With heart depressed, with face tear-stained and 

worn. 
And dread the light of each succeeding day. 

One morn, when all but sunk beneath my load, 
My untaught lips essayed a prayer, and lo. 
The light of Calvary shone o'er the road. 

No hope but one, the cross. A dream I nursed — 
But that is dead. O God, desert me now, 
Then chaos is. and I'm indeed accursed. 



101 



A WOMAN S CONSTANCY. 



My dream, a weakling's dream, no more shall fret 
Aly yearning heart. Within the mighty calm 
Of yonder sacred cross, I will forget. 

Come, subtle essence of a power divine, 

Cloak all my senses in thy mystery, 

And shield me from all masterv but thine. 



Mankind is weak, O God, the steady light 

Of Thy great presence awes ; so keep me firm 

Lest I drift back to sin, and to the night. 

My erring heart still pleads and mourns its loss 

In silent anguish. Is there no relief 

For those who kneel and cry beneath the cross? 

Just God, forgive ! In vain I've tried to slay 
This love within my breast. Take Thou all else 
But give me back my dream of yesterday. 

Two faces silhouetted in the dawn ; 

The woman sits and dreams in sweet content ; 

Her prayer is answered, but the cross is gone. 



102 



THE WATER SPRITE. 



THE WATER-SPRITE. 



All day she lies in a lily's cup, 

But late at night when the moon comes up, 

Away, away o'er the dimpling lake 

To a place she knows in the flow'ring brake 

Where perfumes lift from a tangled wild 

To thrill the soul of the air-born child. 

To overcome with a rare delight 

The ravished sense of the water-sprite. 

The spot is ringed with a shaded red 
Of flow'r-cups, blossoming overhead ; 
Here waves beat soft on a sanded beach 
With lisping murmur, like childhood's speech ; 
On grasses burnt to a sable brown 
She rests as light as a thistle-down, 
And moonbeams lost in the pulseless night 
Are gathered close by the water-sprite. 



103 



THE WATER SPRITE. 



The warm air steals from the spice-groved South 
To press its kiss on her willing mouth. 
And where but promises late arose 
She now the joy of fulfillment knows ; 
With arms flung wide to the perfume warm, 
With wings sunk limp to her melting form 
She yields herself to the sweets of night, 
Those languorous joys of the water-sprite. 



104 



IN MliDITATION. 



IN MEDITATION. 

Though all else fade yet may I always keep 

The memory of yesterday ; that time 

When words were said that made the pulses 

leap, 
When good was killed and evil set a-chime, 
And every impulse that was virtue-fed 
Lay prone. Twas then I hid the wound from 

which hope bled, 
And made no outward sign when it was dead. 

But I've remembered. 'Twixt my God and me 

There lives a prayer, a fervid, earnest prayer, 

That reaches down through all infinity 

And rests where lesser pleas would fear to dare. 

When He shall give His ultimate decree, 

What will we do, my soul, when He shall say to 

me, 
"This day I give to thee thine enemy." 



105 



SATIETY. 



SATIETY. 

A man and a woman in sad discontent, 

Their hearts dull and heavy, to Cupid's shrine 

went, 
And knelt at the altar old, faded and worn, 
To pour out the griefs and the wrongs they had 

borne. 

Each went there alone, in contrition and dread. 
Afraid lest the other should see love was dead, 
And shrunk from the scene the denouement 

would make. 
And tried to evade it for each other's sake ; 
They only acknowledged in secret, and shame, 
The truth of the tale of the moth and the flame. 

"I'm tired," said the man, " 'tis the old, selfsame 

play, 
The same entre act every night, every day, 



106 



SATIETY. 

The same ceaseless babble, cheap tinsel and gauze, 
The same angry words from the same jealous 

cause, 
The same curtain-raiser, the same curtain call — 
I'd give twenty years to be out of it all." 

"I'm tired," said the woman, "I kneel to confess 
I've wavered and struggled in sore heart distress. 
Brought duty to bear on my faltering mind, 
But only ephemeral good could I find, 
And love lies as cold and as dead as a stone — 
I cover the corpse with the hopes I have known." 

"I'm tired of it all," said the man with a frown, 
The bar to the holy of holies threw down, 
And stood there aghast in the dim, sacred place 
As he saw in the dusk, silhouetted, a face. 
"You here! For what purpose?" he faltering 

cried, 
"I'm sacking the Temple of Love," she replied, 
"I've torn down the idol, depleted the shrine. 
Despoiled, desecrated this temple of mine ; 
The image I thought was pure gold in the past, 
I find is but poor imitation at last," 



107 



SATIETY. 

They parted, and traversed their different ways 
And thought all forgotten in happier days, 
But sometimes unbidden, heart-sick, on the rack. 
The thoughts of the man and the woman go back, 
And tears and regrets and fond memories crowd 
Round a small, broken image with hope for its 
shroud. 



igs 



A YESTERDAY. 



A YESTERDAY. 

There's a land I know, 

Its beauties lie 

'Neath a tropic sky. 
There the cacti grow ; 
There the red-lipped, sun-kissed cacti grow 

And glow, and glow. 

There's a face I know ; 

Two red lips set 

Round a cigarette ; 
There's a promise low, 
There are raven lashes drooping low 

O'er eyes that glow. 

There's a spot I know ; 

A face lies white 

In the moon's cold light. 
And the cacti grow — 
And the red-lipped cacti blood-red grow, 

And glint and glow. 



109 



BE KIND. 



BE KIND. 

If you are kind 

Then there will be no need of separate ways, 
No painful gathering where tares upraise 
Through tears that blind. 

Thoughts unconfessed 

Although from venom sprung, may harmless fall, 

But all their potent power is past recall 

When once expressed. 

And love lies dead 

Sometimes before the heart is yet aware 
That mortal wound has been inflicted there 
By hard things said. 

The pulses start. 

And dread alarm through soft emotion creeps. 
As hopeless sorrow o'er contentment sweeps 
To rouse the heart ; 



110 



BE KIND. 

And when it wakes, 

It turns, like one that dreams, from what annoys 
And beats awhile to past, remembered jo3's — 
Then slowly breaks. 

Be kind, be sweet, 

And let our love from such deep source be drawn 
That each shall know the other in that dawn 
Where next we meet. 



lit 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



THE LOVERS' TRYST. 

A swift ebb tide, on the eastern side, 

Sweeps in at the Point Del ..iar, 
For cycles old have the breakers hissed 
And swept their spray in a circling- mist 
O'er a crag- that's christened ''The Lovers' Tr\st. 

A wild, bold run that the sea-folk shun, 

Crowned high by decaying walls. 
That, years ago. were a castle old. 
Where dwelt a maid with a heart of gold. 
Who lived, and died, for a brigand bold. 



The good ship Sue, with her viking crew, 

Set sail at the break of day ; 
All night she'd drowsed to a sweet refrain 
Of music, sung by the mighty main. 
Whose pulses throbbed at her anchor-chain. 



112 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



IUt listless crew slept the whole ni,^ht through, 

And never a man that stirred. 
That is, save one, and he swam to land 
To kiss a beautiful maiden's hand. 
And nurse a love that w^as contraband. 



And now he stood in his plaid and hood. 
And thought of the night gone by ; 
He thought of love, and a maiden's bed. 
And a tender look o'er his features spread 
That made a saint's of a pirate's head. 



And when his ship, with a flirt and dip. 

Swept close to the castle wall. 
He bared his head as he hove in sight. 
And dipped his flag, in the morning light. 
In sweet salute to a form in white. 



"Sing ho, sing ho, my aggressive crew. 
"We'll toast the lass, and the good ship Sue. 
"Both good and steady, and firm and true." 
Right well it be if they prove so. too. 



iir. 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



A sentinel's face, from its hiding place, 

Saw Sue dip the brigand flag. 
Then disappeared ; in a moment more 
A bugle sounded from off the shore 
That made the echoes with challenge roar. 



A call to arms, while the sharp alarms 

Ring quick long the castle walls, 
A shot flies swift, o'er the waters blue, 
That's answered, quick, by the Viking crew 
With an old Long Tom and a thirty-two. 



Ha, see^ A bark leaves the fortress, dark. 

And speeds for the open sea ; 
She cuts the foam as she plows along 
In hot pursuit of the pirate throng, 
Who flout her sail with a ribald song. 



"Sing ho, sing ho, all my viking crew, 
"And sing again when your song is through, 
"And make the jest that best pleases you." 
'Twill be the same in an hour or two. 



114 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



The pirate crew would have sworn that Sue 

Could distance the Falcon bark, 
But big and red in the morning light 
The Falcon's beacon forged in sight. 
And the viking crew prepared for fight. 



Sing ho, sing ho, let your song ring true, 
And pipe a note for the Falcon, too, 
The lassie's father commands the crew 
That rides the waves in pursuit of you. 



The light of day saw a bloody fray. 
The deck of the Sue shone red. 
Her monkey-gaff was a gallows-tree 
That swayed and bent 'neath the corpses, three, 
Of pirates, dead as they'll ever be. 



The captain stood, in his plaid and hood. 

And wielded his trusty blade ; 
The ring of dead he had piled knee-high 
At length attracted the searching eye 
Of a man in lace who was tacking by. 



!:) 



THE LOVEKS TKVST. 



"You imp of fire," quoth the irate sire. 

"Come measure your sword with uie : 
"Forsooth, I vow by the Sphinx's head. 
"That ere the sun grows a deeper red. 
"You'll mark your length on a coral bed." 

Then quoth the chief: "By Gilmony's Reef. 

"It pains me to cut your throat; 
"But I've a tryst with your daughter, fair, 
"Which you would spoil, if you lived, I swear. 
"So pray to heaven ere you journey there." 

On guard ! On guard ! Now, their breath comes hard. 

Now, chances would seem a draw : 
The pirate falls, he is up once more, 
He stumbles — slips on the bloody floor — 
The other's blade spits his heart's red core. 

Then o'er the rail, with a lusty hail. 

They toppled the brigand bold ; 
A valiant man, and a brave. I vow. 
The father cried : "Will you tell me how 
"You'll keep your tryst with my daughter ncjw ?" 



no 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



The answering word by the wind was heard. 

But not b}- the Falcon crew ; 
They sung their songs of the bloody fray, 
They sailed back home to the fortress gray. 
And reached it just at the close of day. 

X'o single star o'er the Point Del Mar 

Hung high in the heavens dark ; 
The beach lay black, but a grewsome sight 
Was shown next day by the morn's rich light- 
A maiden robed in a dress of white. 

Sing ho, sing ho, for the good ship Sue, 
Sing ho, sing ho, for her captain, too : 
He's sung his song, and his song is through. 
A long farewell to the viking crew. 

A heart of gold, and a brigand bold ; 
Her arms press his bloody form. 
Her cold, dead eyes meet his glassy stare. 
Her white lips rest on his sea-swept hair. 
Thus ends the tale of this luckless pair. 



117 



THE PENALTY. 



THE PENALTY. 

The song was finished when the maestro said, 

"Dream not of fame nor yet of great success;" 

Then kindly added, when she drooped her head, 

As though reluctant to implant unrest 

Within the calm Arcadia of her breast, 

"Great gifts like yours from heaven alone are sent," 

He saw her hopeful look and sadly smiled ; 

"Some day you'll know that fame is only meant 

"To touch the lives that harbor discontent; 

"Success is found through grief and weariness. 

"Be loath to leave the path where pleasure lies ; 

"Joy lives an hour, but sorrow never dies ; 

"It is the soul of man's dead happiness, 

"Ambition is not born of ecstasy ; 

"When you have suffered, then, come back to me," 



118 



THE MEDICI S NEW YEAR. 



THE MEDICI'S NEW YEAR. 



Ring on, great jangling bells, your discord's 

sweet ; 
With brazen clanging make the air replete ; 
I love the music of your metal throats, 
I feel the triumph throbbing in your notes; 
My heart, a pendulum, keeps rhythmic beat 
To every insolence your tongues repeat. 
You speak to men but of the New Year's birth ; 
Of God's good will ; of peace upon the earth ; 
You speak to me a short, exultant word — 
My sated hatred drowses as 'tis heard — 
You speak of plundered enemies to me, 
Of downfall, and of my supremacy. 

As silence that too long has passive hung 
Turns venom in the power upon your tongue. 
So has the heart that echoes to your call. 
From too long waiting, turned its blood to gall. 



119 



LOVE S LAMENT. 



Your threat'ning sound, portentous, blatant, clear. 
Proclaims a frenzied anger to my ear ; 
I laugh — a silent laugh. Your voice to me 
Speaks soothingly of strength, and victory. 
I dream, in sweet content, above the woe 
Of one long hated — a dismantled foe ; 
And I repeat when your last note is done, 
I have prevailed 'gainst barriers — and won ! 



LOVE'S LAMENT. 

Cupid drooped his pinions fair ; 
"Why thus change my name ?" he queried. 
Ansvv^ered maiden, debonair. 
In accents wearied : 
"Love, put jealousy away, 
"Though I change your name, don't sorrow 
"Love is love — though Jack to-day 
"And Toe to-morrow." 



ISO 



ON LAUKliL IIJLL. 



ON LAUREL HILL. 



How heedless they on Laurel Hill ! 

The lark that has lain dumb 
With weight of night within his throat. 
With darkness silencing each note, 
Near bursts his heart with melody 

Now day is come ; 
But matin song finds no responsive thrill 
In these, the heedless ones, on Laurel Hill. 



On Laurel Hill they love the night 

With pale stars overhead, 
For when the earth lies dark and cold 
White tendrils seem to ease their hold 
And give each sleeper freer space 

Within his bed. 
What care these silent ones for dawning" light 
That ever fails to reach them in their night ? 



121 



Man*s love. 

Here's name and fame with moss o'ergrown 

And white stone sinking lower ; 
Each day the city grows apace, 
Each day some trav'ler seeks the place 
And to himself a homestead takes 

To roam no more. 
On Laurel Hill each, housed beneath his stone 
Like surly hermit, guards his hearth, alone. 



MAN'S LOVE. 

You say you love me and affirm no hour 

Of dark adversity could blight the flower 

Of this, your fervent passion; that no deed 

Committed or in embryo would need 

Your absolution; 'twould forgiven be 

Before 'twas spoken ; that your constancy 

Could never equal find. If you but knew 

The errors of a past I hide from you — 

'Tis as I thought! You, shrinking, turn from 

me; 
'Tis not myself you love, but purity. 



122 



tilE BRIDGfi, 



THE BRIDGE. 



Here passes the world when the day is done ; 
The toiler, released by the coming night, 
The child of misfortune, the rich man's son, 
And shapes that are born with the waning light. 
I loiter again where the discords meet 
And list to the hurry of eager feet 
Which startles, as louder the noises grow, 
The echoes that hide in the dusk below. 



No prejudice here; it receives the great 
And misses them not when at last they pass. 
Departing like those of a lesser state, 
As transient as breath on a looking-glass ; 
It welcomes the king with his pageant, proud. 
Or sanctions revolt of the maddened crowd 
While onward the river in restless throb 
Laps in through its arches with feeble sob. 



123 



MAN S HERITAGE. 



Strange shadows flit here when the throng has 

passed. 
Queer wraiths of the quay from tlie darkness 

sprung. 
Things lost on the course where their hfe is cast 
That vanish when dawn is with crimson hung ; 
These Hnger. with me. while desire outstrips 
The word that hangs pending on phantom lips, 
x\nd turn, as with hope, as the silence brings 
The theme of the song that the river sins:s. 



MAN'S HERITAGE. 

This thing calledLife! What care we take to shield 
Its little hour. We fume and strut about 
Forever watchful lest the light go out 
And save us from some torture that it yield. 

Proud heritage ! As through an open door 
Man enters, strides in great inconsequence 
And then, protesting, forcibly goes hence. 
An atom, lost, upon an unnamed shore. 



124 



THE VOICE OF SILENCE. 



THE VOICE OF SILENCE. 



Not thinj^s we say but those we leave unsaid 

Discover beauty. 
And not by voiced reproof are slack hearts led 
But by some vague, unspoken word, each hears. 

That pleads for duty. 

'Tis not the sounds but silences of- life 

To which we barken ; 
The wave-beats in the sea of daily strife 
Raise clouds of sound, with silences between 

That liciht or darken. 



Not in effulgence can those joys be found 

That flood the senses. 
They come but when the da\' kills clangorous sound 
And night, all silent, calms the fevered blood 

And rest dispenses. 



12.5 



THE VOICE OF SILENCE. 



We lose the theme where eloquence has burned 

Nor long regret it — 
It was a sound ; but who of man has turned 
To feel the thrill of silent, breathing art 

And can forget it? 

When wind-swept storms leave on the shivering 
palm 

Great tears that glisten, 
And rage-rent forces speak within the calm, 
What wondrous words are whispered in the ears 

Of those who listen. 

As after passion comes serene repose, 

Calm after flurry, 
So, after life comes silence. Ah, who knows 
How we shall read the music of the void 

To'ard which we hurry ? 



136 



SATAN S TOAST. 



SATAN'S TOAST. 

Here's to sins that ye do and ye wish to do ; 

Here's to promises never kept; 
Here's to Hps that deny with the morning light 
Tender words that they whispered at dead of 
night ; 

Here's to hearts that have died unwept. 

Here's to pages ye seal when the deeds be done ; 

Here's to hopes that ye crush and kill ; 
Here^s to treacheries hidden in love's caress ; 
Here's to times that ye're silent lest ye confess ; 

Here's to mem'ries that shame, and thrill. 

Here's to lips that breathe love when the heart is 
dead; 

Here's to all that I claim as mine ; 
Here's to ye who repent as the daylight starts 
And succumb to your passions when light departs ; 

Here's to woman, and love, and wine. 



137 



THE BENEDICTION. 



THE BENEDICTION. 

Tnto the night of the world came the word 

"Let there be Hght ;" 
Trembled each dormant thing- when it had heard. 
Burst then from countless throats 
Long-hushed, imprisoned notes. 
Loosed from the night : 
Gems that had lusterless lain in the gloom 
Radiant shone as shines faith through the tomb 
Blessing the sight ; 
Glory had come 
Breathing its soul into things that were dumb. 
When will the word enter the dark of my empty life 
Easing my heart of its useless strife. 
Sweeping my soul of its bitter night. 
When will be heard, "Let there be light?" 



128 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI, 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI. 

When man, grown rebellious, relinquished the right 
To all things reflecting God's spiritual light. 
An angel, in pity, considered the cost. 
And music was left him when Eden was lost. 

And so, little Tivoli, this is goodbye ; 
I make it, old friend, 'twixt a laugh and a cry. 
I know by the sigh that will not be repressed 
Another will never hold sway in my breast 
As you have ; no structure of new-fangled grace 
Can blot from my heart this Bohemian place. 
I love your old back-breaking, hard seated chairs. 
Your quaint, little, dark, nestling boxes up-stairs 
Where many a man, under stress of the play, 
Has said foolish things he regretted next day. 
I love your old stage with its fanciful hue 
Of settings, no stage but this queer one ere knew, 
And though your drop-curtain is marvelous, quite, 



129 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI. 



I haven't the heart of a critic to-night, 
For all the defects you so frankly reveal 
Are lost in the honest regret that I feel. 

The Catskills? Why, yes, I have seen them before, 
And old Rip Van Winkle tired, weary, and sore ; 
Hush ! Hartman is speaking beneath the disguise 
In a way that brings unbidden tears to our eyes. 
A weird and incongruous, hurrying throng, 
Some singing, some tragic, sweeps blindly along; 
Old forms and old faces I view from my stall 
Long since praised or blamed by the Critic of All. 
I hear distant music that stirs in my breast 
A whirlwind of passions, then soothes them to rest ; 
For music can cleanse, like a chastening rod, 
And send the starved soul, pleading, back to its God. 
The melody wakes a long slumbering sense 
That dies, ere 'tis born, from its own impotence. 

What's this ? Shadow- faces grow dim, and the show 
Is not what it was half a minute ago. 
The curtain goes down, and the Tivoli's page 
'Twixt the farce of the world and the farce of the 
stage 



130 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI. 



Is finished ; comes silence where laughter has dwelt. 

Impatience I may have at other times felt 

Is absent to-night. Old Bohemian place, 

I make my adieux with a sorrowful face. 

Let's walk down your aisle for the last time, and 

try 
To whisper goodnight, and forget 'tis goodbye. 



131 



FOR LOVE OF THE BURDEN. 



FOR LOVE OF THE BURDEN. 

Should some bright ray of kmdly fortune shine 
To guide me from this long-famihar way 
And fill my cup of gall with sweetest wine — 
Should I be shown the victor's shining crown, 
Yet sadly would I turn me from today 
And with reluctance lay the burden dow^n. 

'Tis not possession but pursuit that gives 
The charm to conquest, and in distance lies 
The beckoning hope of every soul that lives. 
Who turns his face to'ard light that gleams afar 
Feels naught of storms that fret the nearer skies 
And knows no darkness seeing but the star. 

Heights gained but furnish leisure to look back 
On mist-enshrouded wrecks that strew the night. 
O, let me strive along the tortuous track, 
The task before me ever to be done ; 
O, let me ever know some luring light 
And have some goal forever to be won. 



133 



A DIGS. 



"A DIOS." 

"A Dios.'' 'Twas lightly spoken. 
Each heart left the other broken, 
Without guessing that 'twas so ; 
Checking tender words that started, 
They, like strangers, coldly parted. 
"A Dios." Each turned to go. 

"A Dios." When love came trembling 
Over thirsting lips dissembling, 
Then the words they would have said, 
Quick were killed in jest and laughter ; 
But the pain in each heart after, 
Proved Love wounded, but not dead. 

"A Dios." Is this the ending. 
This the sun of love descending 
Or the dawn that faintly glows? 
Maybe some bright morning, after 
Love has conquered jest and laughter. 
They will meet again. Who knows? 



133 



THE SUICIDE. 



THE SUICIDE. 

What harm should we snuff out this feeble liglit 
And leave the broken thing in which it burns 
Rayless and shadowless within the night? 
What harm if finally is quenched the spark 
And that which men call spirit never turns 
In resurrection from eternal dark? 

The primitive close-threatens with its rote. 
Wherefore we sit enwrapped within our creed 
Lest instinct wake to reason's falt'ring note. 
Could man go back through artificial years 
To ponder symbols held within the seed 
Where then the hope now rainbowed through his 
tears ? 

What better light can show on troubled way 

Of tired, far-journeying pilgrim, than the thought 

That this were all ; that there will dawn no day 



134 



THE SUICIDE. 



When he shall rise to lessons strange and new, 
When tangled problems shall again be wrought 
And other tear-blotched pages copied through. 

Dumb things that come upon the way of death 
Are helped by such crude art as man may boast 
And hastened from the pain of fretful breath ; 
But man condemns if man thus leaps the goal. 
Through fear he tortures, where he loves the most, 
Because some night-tale whispers of a soul. 



135 



THE PHANTOM. 



THE PHANTOM. 

In heaven's name, what shape art thou, 
With threat'ning s^lance and beetling brow, 
That comes with bloodshot eye to dart 
A chill of terror through my heart? 
Thy tears turn, dripping, into blood 
That stains thy front with crimson flood. 
Away ! I bear thy sight with pain, 
Nor dare to break my peace again. 
"Not so," it cries, "I'll ever stay 
"Beside thee close, each hour, each day, 
"And when the grave shall yawn at last 
"I'll still be near. I am thy Past." 



136 



AN EPISODE. 



AN EPISODE. 

Her eyes met mine ; 

I saw a light, half smold'ring, shine 

Within their dusk. 

I hoped. Cold grew her glances then 

And seemed to speak denial when 

Her eyes met mine. 

Had it but seemed 

Or had I in some fever dreamed 

Her eyes spoke love? 

Why tremulous her voice and low, 

Why seek to hide her cheeks' red glow, 

Had it but seemed? 

She turned aside. 

'Tis well we're given wit to hide 

The truth within. 

Or else she had to me confessed 

The love she stifled in her breast 

And turned aside. 



137 



HOPE. 



HOPE. 



Out somewhere from the darkness of the East 

Three travelers come ; 
Content in what they fail to understand 
Each moves across the heat-veiled desert sand 
As though he held a chart within his hand ; 
Their fervor, by each hardship but increased, 

Makes question dumb. 



These, strong in forceful trust of some strange 
power 

To guide aright. 
Oft see a vision fill the star-lit wild 
Where shine the features of the Virgin, mild ; 
They kneel in worship to the King, her child. 
And trembling cry, ere comes the natal hour, 

"Behold the Hght!" 



138 



HOPE. 

Thus, on each barren life there shines some star 

To cheer its night. 
Some force deep sprung from sources that will win 
Hearts back to hope, although there lies within 
But rotting wrecks of glories that have been. 
Thus each soul through the darkness finds afar 

The guiding light. 



139 



THE SIREN. 



THE SIREN. 

Near a spot where the voice of the whispering 

pines 
Calls low to the drone of the sea, 
Near the buoy that sways to the turbulent roll 
Of the surf as it sweeps o'er the crag-breasted 

shoal, 
There's a cabin, a tiny, wee bit of a place 
That drowsily rests in the cliff's warm embrace, 
And the world may not trespass within the con- 
fines 
Of its poppy-flecked fields and its clustering vines. 

There is life in the breath of the salt-laden spray 
That drenches the rocks at its feet, 
There is peace in the song of the sea, gay or grave, 
And a history lies in the froth of each wave. 
And we, of the world, stand aloof, loath to go, 
Forgetting awhile the unrest that we know, 



140 



THE SIREN. 



Forgetting the power that we bend to obey. 
Till we turn, with regret, to the old beaten way. 

Here's the infinite peace we have looked for so long, 

Here is life freed from trammeling care ; 

But a voice from afar calls with mystical force 

And the yearning we nourish is sapped at its source ; 

We harken no more to the soul's plaintive cry 

But sink back 'neath the spell of the world's Lorelei. 

There's no rest for the heart that has thrilled to the 

song 
Of the siren that sings in the hum of the throng. 



141 



TO MY PIPE. 



TO MY PIPE. 

Come down, old fellow ! with shame-bowed head 

I take you up from your dusty bed ; 

I feel regret and a just remorse, 

And blame myself and my vapid course, 

That I, the dolt, could have put you by 

For a maiden's wish and a maiden's sigh. 

Come down, old fellow ! we meet again ; 

To-day is not what the day was, when 

I thrust you back in the shadows, dim. 

In deference to a woman's whim. 

No wondrous maid that the world e'er knew 

Could chain a man to her heart like you. 

Come down, old fellow ! What, friend ! think you 

That any one, now, could part us two? 

What fervid kisses from scarlet lips 

Could thrill me thus to my finger tips? 

Dear, brown, old fellow, I bless the sprite 

That gave me freedom, and you, to-night. 



142 



THE ROSE. 



THE ROSE. 

Light from rubies, caught and held 
In each petal. From its bosom 
Sweet, seductive perfume welled. 

Careless, winged a butterfly. 
Passes near the siren's beauty, 
Loiters, trembles — flutters by. 

Wheeling on uncertain wing 
Back he flies, now unresisting — 
Back to woo ; to love ; to cling. 

He, replete with love, ne'er guessed, 
Yesterday the bee was fondled 
Close within that scarlet breast, 

That to-morrow would be heard. 

Not unwillingly, the pleading 

Of impassioned humming-bird. ,''§' 



143 



WHAT KING. 



WHAT KING? 

What king have we to-day ; the one whose blood 

Dark-stained the aspen cross of Calvary 

That man might be regenerate through its flood ? 

Or build we temples underneath His stars 

For worship of the hour's divinity 

And bend the knee to Plutus, Bel, and Mars? 

Each glade an altar hides, each rocK a shrine, 
Rare incense swings to \'enus, as of old, 
Through cannon's mouth is Odin spake divine. 

Great Bacchus still beneath his vine sits crowned 
Dispensing comfort to these followers 
On whom all other oracles have frowned. 

Unstable as the gods to whom they pray 
Men kneel, low-bowed; each dawn comes question- 
ing, 
"What king does man go forth to crown to-day?" 



144 



THE POPPY. 



THE POPPY. 

Once a poppy grew 
(If the tale be true) 
On a hillside bare; 
And two wooers bold 
For her heart of gold 
Fought a battle there. 



Now, the Sun and Dew 
Were the good knights true 
Of this fickle one; 
And with lance of light 
Put the Dew to flight, 
Did Sir Knight, the Sun. 



Then the victor passed 
With the day, at last, 
To his home and rest. 

145 



THE POPPY. 



And the vanquished lay 

In the twiHght gray 

On the loved one's breast. 

When a new day dawned, 
Though her lovers fawned, 
She was coy and shy 
And she looked far down 
On the distant town 
With a longing eye. 

"Could I feel and know 
All its life and show 
'Twould be sweet, in truth." 
Like an answered prayer 
She was carried there 
By a careless youth. 

Then the sun went down 
On the hill and town, 
And the poppy sweet, 
Lay all soiled and torn. 
All forgot, forlorn. 
On the crowded street. 

146 



THE POPPY. 



Then the dew came down 
On the hill and town, 
But the poppy, tossed 
In the swirl and strife 
Of a larger life 
Had been crushed and lost. 



147 



LOVES SPAN. 



LOVE'S SPAN. 

The fleecy clouds in the heavens high 
Beneath the light of an opal sky 

Showed tints of morn ; 
The blush that over the landscape lay 
Spoke tender hopes for a glorious day, 

When love was born. 

The sun's caress woke the slumb'ring glade 
And turned the light to a deeper shade 

On brook and mound, 
No sign betrayed in the glowing west 
The storm-cloud trembling with dark unrest, 

When love was crowned. 

The world was hushed when the sun went down ; 
It left the sky 'neath its threat'ning frown 

An angry red, 
And hope went out with the dying light 
As day gave place to a starless night — 

When love was dead. 



148 



BESIDE THE BIER. 



BESIDE THE BIER. 

Poor, cold, dead face; poor lips that weakly part. 
Irresolute, unchanged. The tear-drops start 
And shame the angry sorrow at my heart. 

Before they came, before the word was said, 
Before the watchers hovering round your bed 
Were yet aware, I knew that you were dead. 

How ? How do captives know their chains are gone ? 
How know the wounded that the barb's withdrawn ? 
How does the darkness know of coming dawn? 

You were the millstone of uncertain fate ; 
Down, inch by inch, I sunk beneath the weight 
Till I was crushed, despairing, desolate. 

I do not blame. If, from eternity, 

You may look back, I hope that it will be 

To learn how much you might have been to me. 



149 



THE ROSE OF MONTEREY. 



THE ROSE OF MONTEREY. 

This the story : In a valley 
Steeped within perpetual sunshine, 
In a tropic, sun-kissed valley 
Dwells a dark-eyed senorita : 
Traces still of regal beauty 
Lie upon her aged features. 

Long ago the wand 'ring sunlight 
In its course o'er dell and river, 
Ling'ring near the land of roses, 
Saw a sad and bitter parting, 
Saw a tender heart grow heavy 
With uncertain premonition, 
Saw bright eyes unused to weeping 
Dimmed with tears they could not master. 
"I will soon return," he whispered, 
" 'Wait me here, I'll not forget you ; 
"Take this pure-white rose and plant it 
" 'Neath the shadow of your window. 



150 



THE ROSE OF MONtEREY. 



"Let it be the sacred emblem 

"Of the love we hold and cherish ; 

"When you see its first fair blossom, 

"When you smell its sweet, faint perfume 

"I shall be here close beside you, 

"Hold you in my arms and kiss you, 

"Evermore we'll be together." 

With these words he turned and left her, 

Left her to her hopes and longings. 

To her dreams and sweet illusions. 

Many years the glowing sunshine . 
Has been seen upon the sun dial ; 
Many years the rose has blossomed ; 
Many years its subtle fragrance 
Has been known to summer zephyrs, 
And the dark-eyed senorita 
Tends it — hoping, trusting, waiting. 
But, 'tis said, the waxen petals 
Pure and faultless in their beauty, 
White at first, as any moonbeam, 
Now lie red beneath the sunshine. 
Faultless still, but red as rubies. 
Red as blood that marks the pulse-beat 
In the heart of one forsaken. 



151 



IN LOTUS LAND, 



IN LOTUS LAND. 

Let me live within my dreams : 

The joys I know 

From shadows grow ; 

Transient lights from nothing burning 

Back to nothing swift returning ; 

Life can hold no happiness like that which seems. 

Let me love and then forget; 

Each vintage sip 

With careless lip; 

Drain the cup and then destroy it, 

Hold no memories to cloy it ; 

I would have no dark remorse to chill and fret. 

Let me keep my altar fires 

Bright with incense from elusive, vague desires — 

Flames well fed ; 

Flouting fate, cajoling sorrow, 

Heedless if a sad to-morrow 

Find me dead. 



152 



TO JESSICA. 



TO JESSICA. 

True to my soul as the steel to the pole 
You have been to me ever. 
Evil has thrilled me 
And sorrow has chilled me 
Grief and regret for a wasted life filled me: 
You have been near me 
To comfort, to cheer me, 
Bound firm and fast by a tie none can sever, 
Close to my soul. 

When we are dead and the last word is said 
We will still be together. 
Fear that I'd lose you 
Has made me abuse you, 
Sully your life that your God might accuse you ; 
Sin has engrossed you 
And Heaven has lost you 
That I might have you and hold you forever, 
Living or dead. 



133 



WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU. 



WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU. 

A youth swore love for a maiden fair, 
(Which does not matter to you), 
He placed a rose in her auburn hair 
And laid his head on her shoulder fair 
And promised freedom from every care, 
(Which does not matter to you.) 

And like the tale of a minstrel's rhyme, 

(Which does not matter to you), 
He left his home for a certain time 
And sought for wealth in a foreign clime 
And found it — owned by a maid sublime, 
(Which does not matter to you). 

And time went on just as time will do, 

(Which does not matter to you), 
The maiden wept for a day or two 
Because her lover had proved untiue 

154 



WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU. 



Then patched her heart with connubial gUie, 
(Which does not matter to you). 

And after that the report was spread, 

(Which does not matter to you), 

That youth and maid put in earthy bed 

The cold remains of their spouses dead 

And hid a smile with the tears they shed, 

(Which does not matter to you). 

Above the graves they had met again, 
(Which does not matter to you), 

They whispered things about "might have 
been" 

Which I consider a cardinal sin 

Remembering the place they were talking in, 
(Which does not matter to you). 

And then, one day, it was told to me, 
(Which does not matter to you). 

These twain were one ; now they both agree 

That "Was" was nearer felicity 

Than "Is," and sigh for the "Used To Be," 
(Which does not matter to you). 



155 



THE PAST. 



And thus it is with the things we crave, 

(Which maybe matters to you), 
We fret and worry and toil and slave 
We reach and struggle, and terrors brave, 
Then scorn the object our efforts gave, 
Which is verv much like vou. 



THE PAST. 

The past? Ah, question not, dear love, 

Nor jealous be; 
The past was but a time when I 

Awaited thee. 
Ask not to have the present chilled 

By retrospect ; 
The past was but a rock submerged 

Where hopes were wrecked. 
The past was but a fretful time 

In which I grew, 
By sorrow's scourge, a helpful mate 

And fit for vou. 



156 



THE VOICE OF NATURE. 



THE VOICE OF NATURE. 



From the flush of strange beginning beauty 

on the earth has lain. 
Glorified in flaming sunset, fairy-gemmed 

in crystal rain, 
Lessons, rare, of radiant splendor are in wild 

profusion shown 
While we gaze in big-eyed wonder like to 

babes in dumbness grown. 



Dormant standing, deep-enamored of the 
spell, with senses swooned, 

Keenly strung to vibrant music only heard 
of hearts attuned, 

Helpless in our deep emotion, speechless 
where we would reveal, 

Vain the fettered tongue endeavors to por- 
tray the thing we feel. 



157 



THE VOICE OF NATURE. 



Frail we are in understanding when our 

sleeping souls awake, 
Conscious of but futile effort through the 

halting flights we take. 
Masterful the changing story told in yellow 

leaf and sear, 
Wondrous is the swelling anthem known to 

him who will but hear. 

Call him sculptor who in marble clothes the 
song his heart has heard, 

Call him poet who from Nature has pre- 
served one throbbing word, 

Each attempts to paint the glory of the thing 
as it is shown 

But he ever mars the picture by crude touches 
of his own. 



158 



TO TOMBSTONE II. 



TO TOMBSTONE II. 

(the press club's cat.) 
Thy gaze, transfixed, disdains my presence, small, 
And lingers on creations of thine own ; 
The twitching of thy lip betrays the strange 
And startling wonders of thy retrospect. 
Perchance these walls give place to jungle briars, 
And curious gapers turn to hunted prey ? 
Perchance within thy reminiscent brain 
Lurk dreams of summer nights when stealthy forms 
Cast undulating shadows 'neath the moon? 
I think 'tis so ; despite thy stolid mien, 
A sudden light burns green within thine eyes. 
Ferocious hate leaps high as thought recalls 
How mortal cunning wrought thine impotence. 
By means unworthy living thing, save man, 
They have thee caged, and harmless, by a trick. 
They took thy body captive, but thy pride 
Remains thine own, and clothes thy haughty form 
In solemn garb of peerless majesty. 
I gaze at thee and feel my littleness, 
And slink away, ashamed that man presumes 
From his conceit, to call himself thy lord. 



159 



DREAMS. 



DREAMS. 



Lips there are that crave the touch of iips 

they may not press. 
That laugh above the heart's dead weight of 

hopeless weariners. 
That sometimes paler grow beneath the 

starved soul's futile cry 
And tremble with the fervor of desires that 

will not die. 



Hands, there are, press other hands but love's 
wild thrill is dead, 

Lips speak to lips but hearts no more are 
reached by what is said, 

There come fleet dreams, like transient mist, 
of joys that fate withholds. 

And longings of such bitter pain that hope- 
lessness consoles. 



160 



RETROSPECTUS. 



No rose so red but fragrance from one redder 

blows afar, 
No night so fair but that another shows a 

brighter star, 
Old wines we crave but old love sometimes 

fails the one athirst , 
No virtue breathes in constancy when 

vagrant dreams are nursed. 



RETROSPECTUS. 

Live not in musty retrospect, but try 
To find the rift within the clouded sky. 
And let the cold, dead past in shadow lie — 

Lot's wife looked back. 
Come, pour libations, bid the minstrel play. 
To-day shall question not of yesterday, 
To-morrow shall know nothing of to-day. 



161 



WHO PAYS? 



WHO PAYS? 



Who is it that pays 

For the words that are uttered in careless jest, 

For the vows that are soon forgotten, 

For happiness stirrings the vagrant breast, 

For the sHght of the lips that were once caressed, 

For the unfulfilled hopes and the sad delays? 

Some one pays ! 

Who is it that pays 

For the faith that is held at the joyous start 

Of a love that is quickly ended? 

Who dreams that the debt of a truant heart 

Will not have to be met, in its smallest part. 

Will but find that whenever the piper plays 

Some one pays. 

Who is it that pays 

For the glitter and sparkle of Vanity Fair, 



162 



WHO PAYS! 



For the pomp and the vulgar showing? 

One half of the world must their muscles bare 

That a few of the favored may feel no care — 

For their languorous nights and their useless days, 

Some one pays. 

Who is it that pays 

When the 'frighted hills echo a battle cry 

And strange dew on the grass is shining? 

A trumpet of death is a monarch's sigh, 

But new subjects are born while the old ones die. 

Be it he who is slain or the one who slays 

Some one pays. 



163 



RECOMPENSE. 



RECOMPENSE. 

Before me dead you lie; your still, white face. 

Impassive neath my glance. 
Lies strangely patient in its resting place, 

Nor marks the night's advance. 

Alone, we two ; no ling'ring pulse-throbs start 

Or quiver at my touch. 
I could not hold such hate within my heart 

Had I not loved so much. 

I'd gladly die could I but break your rest 

And bring you back to men. 
That I might plunge this dagger in your breast 

And watch you die again. 



164 



A PARADOX. 



A PARADOX. 

Had you listened when I pleaded. 
Had you paused or hesitated 
Or one wish of mine conceded, 
Had a wave of weakness crossed you- 
Had you yielded — I had lost you. 

Yours was not an easy trial ; 
Evermore I'll hold you dearer 
For your words of proud denial ; 
Had your duty less engrossed you, 
You were mine and I had lost you. 

In the dead and sodden embers 
Where lie passions long forgotten. 
Such a love a man remembers. 
'Mid the ruins lying scattered 
Stands one idol still unshattered. 



165 



A SPANISH SERENADE. 



A SPANISH SERENADE. 



Come to thy casement, love, let me behold thee ; 
Night will be sweeter, far, if thou but linger near. 
Soft sings the nightingale, sings near thy window. 
Telling his mate of love, passionate, sincere. 
Queen of my life, let me repeat his story, 
Close not thy heart, O, do not turn away, 
Bid me but hope, 'twill fill the night with glory; 
Be thou my queen, let me, thy slave, obey. 

Love is an ember that we should keep glowing ; 
Do not destroy the spark from which the flame is 

fed. 
For naught shall give it life once it has perished, 
E'en lips like thine cannot revive it when 'tis dead. 
Then fill the time with joys for which I'm sighing; 
Close in thine arms my exile I'd forget. 
Give me thy lips, no sweets they hold denying. 
Lest in some sad to-morrow we regret. 



166 



LOVE S ENEMY. 



There's not a flower but knows the love I cherish, 
There's not a breeze but whispers, dear, of thee, 
Come, pluck the rose of life, now, ere it perish ; 
Share thou its rich perfume, this night, with me. 



LOVE'S ENEMY. 

'Invulner'ble my armor is," 

Dan Cupid proudly said ; 
Doubt heard, quick loosed a poisoned dart 

And little Love fell dead. 



167 



give! give! 



"GIVE! GIVE!" 



The cry of need, and the cry of greed, 

Is the cry that is heard afar, 

Is the cry that has run since the world was begun 

From the ether-rimmed earth to the governing sun 

And has trembled from star to star ; 

The unequal strife in the struggle for life 

Has embittered the upright soul, 

And the god of the purse is the god that we curse, 

While we bow to him, hip and jowl. 



This cry is hurled round a purse-proud world, 

Nor is hushed by the helping hand. 

Who relieves those in need for the love of the deed 

Coaxes censure like that for a singular creed 

We come never to understand. 

The cry that will live is the fierce cry of "Give !" 

Hear the multiple echoes roll ! 



168 



GIVE ! GIVE ! 

Though the god of the purse is the god that we 

curse, 
Yet we bow to him, hip and jowl. 

This cry upraised to the god that's praised 

Is unchecked by the touch of death, 

And the soft word that sHps through the child's 

coaxing lips 
Is the word that is voiced by the wanton who strips 
With the blight of her vampire breath. 
The loves that we know and the follies we show 
Are forgiven, if full the bowl ; 
Though the god of the purse is the god that we 

curse, 
Yet we bow to him, hip and jowl. 



169 



WHEN PASSES THE FLAME. 



WHEN PASSES THE FLAME. 

Today you are most kind, 
But kindness, now, seems only anger's cloak ; 
Your looks are gentle yet I fail to find 
That joy they once awoke. 

Today you clasp my hand 

And speak soft nothings in my passive ear ; 

I listen but I do not understand ; 

My heart has failed to hear. 

True love will not abide 
Where inclination has to custom grown, 
And now when thus you linger at my side 
I am as one alone. 

The ember, lying gray, 
May be revived although its flame be sped, 
But who of mortal man can find the way 
To fire the spark that's dead? 



170 



ON THE LITTLE SANDY. 



ON THE LITTLE SANDY. 

Just within the mystic border of Ken- 
tucky's blue grass region 

There's a silver strip of river lying idly in 
the sun, 

On its banks are beds of fragrance where the 
butterflies are legion 

And the moonbeams frame its glory when 
the summer day is done. 

There's a little, rose-wreathed cottage nest- 
ling close upon its border 

Where a tangled mass of blossoms half con- 
ceals an open door. 

There's a sweet, narcotic perfume from a 
garden's wild disorder. 

And the jealous poppies cluster where its 
kisses thrill the shore. 

From across its dimpled- bosom comes the 
half-hushed, careful calling 



171 



ON THE LITTLE SANDY. 



Of a whippoorwill whose lonely heart is 
longing for his mate, 

And the sun aslant the sleepy eyes of fox- 
gloves gently falling 

Tells the fisherman out yonder that the hour 
is growing late. 

From the branches of the poplars a spas- 
modic, sleepy twitter 

Comes, 'twould seem, in careless answer to 
the pleading of a song, 

And perhaps the tiny bosom holds despair 
that's very bitter 

For his notes are soon unheeded by the little 
feathered throng. 

Then the twilight settling denser shows a 

rushlight dimly burning — 
Ah, how well I know the landing drowsing 

'neath its feeble beams. 
And my homesick heart to mem'ries of the 

yesterday is turning 
While I linger here, forgotten, with no solace 

but my dreams. 



172 



IF YOU HAD KNOWN. 



IF YOU HAD KNOWN. 

If you had known 

That 'neath my glance indifferent, the seeds 

Of love were sown, 

Would you so brief have held 

My proffered hand 

Within your own? 

If you had guessed 

The thrill of passion that your touch awoke, 

Would you have pressed 

My hand in careless mood. 

Or clasped me close 

Unto vour breast? 



173 



THE BURDEN. 



THE BURDEN. 

Within the temple purple windows threw 
Their solemn lig^ht athwart the silent aisles, 
And length'ning shadows into twilight grew ; 
Still Zarick knelt, unwilling to depart, 
So heavy was the sorrow at his heart. 

"Great Oracle," he cried, "behold my grief, 
"I sink beneath the burden of my life ; 
"O, guide me to some haven of relief. 
"No man of woman born can know the stress 
"That I endure from utter wretchedness." 

"Go search the world," a solemn voice replied, 
"And give thy life in full exchange for one 
"That thou may'st choose ; thou shalt not be denied." 
In fervent thanks he lifted up his voice, 
And joyfully went forth to make his choice. 



174 



THE BURDEN. 



The Eastern sun full many seasons rolled 
Across the spice-breathed air of Orient shores ; 
Full many months the temple bells were tolled, 
Yet Zarick came not ; then, one solemn night 
An old man knelt beneath the altar light, 

"Great One," he said, "I've searched through hut 

and hall, 
"And found no man untouched by sorrow's breath ; 
"My burden was the lightest of them all ; 
"No space o'erlooked, no road but I have trod 
"And all have sufTered, all have kissed the rod." 



175 



JOHN BRADFORD S PRAYER. 



JOHN BRADFORD'S PRAYER. 

John Bradford stood at the entrance gate of 

a jail in Ludlow Square ; 
He saw a man led forth to die, and he offered 
up a prayer. 

He offered up, for himself, a prayer, as but 

pious people can 
Who follow rules of the cloth and creed, did 

this conscientious man. 

He offered up for himself a prayer 'neath the 

archway drear and dim, 
And thanked the Lord that another man was 

to die instead of him. 

He used the harassing circumstance of the 

checkered life near run 
To call to notice his godliness, and to draw 

comparison. 



176 



JOHN BRADFORD S PRAYER. 



He iaid the list of his Christian deeds in the 

Master-Hand on high. 
But not a word was there said for him who 

was going forth to die. 

He prayed so much of his own affairs, and 

they took so long to tell, 
The hangman's key to the great unknown 

set ajar the gates of hell. 

And thus a soul sped its way unchecked by 

an interceding prayer, 
While Bradford muttered his mummery, to 

his God, in Ludlow Square. 



177 



LOVES FALLACIES. 



LOVE'S FALLACIES. 



It is not in the blare of the noonday glare 

That the red of the wine invites ; 
We must borrow the grace of the time and place 

To give color to soft delights. 

It is not in the heat of the crowded street 

That we seek for the shaded pool, 
We would travel in vain o'er the burning plain 

Fpr the gush of the fountain cool. 

Eyes that seem to us bright by the candle's light 

May but commonplace be and dim, 
And the lips we think red have their beauty sped 

When removed from the glass's rim. 

Though we know that the smile which we hold 
awhile 
Is but dross of a base alloy, 



178 



MY PLEA. 

Yet we marry false sighs to unblushing lies 
And then christen the offspring "Joy-" 

But, O, never believe that we once deceive 

Or once satisfy, e'en in part 
By the shadows that pass with the empty glass, 

The deep call of the yearning heart. 



MY PLEA. 

When God's good angel sadly questions me 
As to my fitness for eternity, 
I'll say you loved me, and when that is done 
My sins will be forgiven, and heaven won. 



)T'1 



A PICTURE. 



A PICTURE. 

Gray the sky ; the earth was gray ; 
Smoke from sacrificial altar. 
Darkly heavy, trailed away. 

Near the shrine a woman stood. 
And, as incense to Ambition. 
Burned the wealth of womanhood. 

Desolate to he'art and eye ; 
Not a trace of color trembled 
'Neath the grayness of the sky. 



Near the work the artist stood. 
"What is this?" at last I ask her, 
"Why portray such solemn mood?" 

Stilling then an inward strife, 
With dispassion born of patience, 
"This," she answers, "is my life." 



180 



A PICTURE. 



In my glance deep passion glows, 
And upon the sacred altar 
Quick I paint a scarlet rose. 



Long the rose of scarlet lay 
On the altar of Ambition, 
Flushing red the sky of gray. 

Tired, one day, and callous grown, 
She, with brush annihilating, 
Gave Ambition back its own. 

But the cruel hand, 'tis said 
Hesitating in its firmness. 
Left behind a blush of red. 



181 



rllfe ROAD 0]F A GREAt DESIRE;. 



THE ROAD OF A GREAT DESIRE. 

There are bridges, once crossed, that 'twere wise 
to burn 
On the road of A Great Desire, 
There are havens of rest that 'twere well to spurn, 
There's the touch of a hand we may not return; 
Place all longings, save one, on Ambition's pyre 
Ye who travel the road of A Great Desire. 

There are faces so young and with hearts so old 

On the road of A Great Desire, 
In their eyes lie the shadows of hopes untold ; 
Though the pulses beat swift yet the blood is cold, 
For they know but the lust of Ambition's fire 
They that travel the way of A Great Desire. 

There's a shrine bathed in warmth of the world's 
caress 
On the road of A Great Desire, 

182 



LOVE S RECOMPENSE. 



It is reached through the valley of Weariness 
And the god of the temple is called Success; 
Lay the dreams you have known on its altar fire 
Ye who've traveled the way of A Great Desire. 



LOVE'S RECOMPENSE. 

The angry billows lash the seam-marked face 
Of yonder whitening, bleak, sea-girdled rock ; 
A thousand storms have swept its rugged form ; 
It stands impervious to stress and shock. 

No jagged hurt that ever scarred its sides 
But seemed a privilege, made doubly blest. 
Were it endured to shield the cherished life 
Of that frail lichen clinging to its breast. 



183 



TO MY BOOKS. 



TO MY BOOKS. 

Old friends, your pardon. I am come again 
Back from the social littleness of men 
Contrite and deeply shamed that I was lured, 
And roundly punished by the pain endured. 

From out some vanity of mine it grew, 

Dread wastes of empty words I've floundered 

through. 
Deceived in false supports at which I caught. 
To sink at last 'neath seas of vacuous thought. 

If mental suffering can shrive the sin 
Of seeking social paths to wander in 
Then I was blameless scarce the way was won 
And stood forgiv'n, with every penance done. 

How peaceful here : You stand in silent row 
Reflecting back the firelight's genial glow 



184 



TO MY BOOKS. 



In wealth of welcome you so well express 
Which not to feel would be to love you less. 

No more, old friends. I know man tends to good 
'Neath mem'ry of fresh sufferings withstood. 
And scarce I blame you that you wink and leer 
At one who sought the world when you were near. 



185 



LOVE S VICTORY. 



LOVE'S VICTORY. 

"I want you to hold me and prize me again, 
"Why spurn me now?" Love cried. 

"I go to lay siege to the Castle of Fame, 
"Where you may not abide." 

With sweet, curly head bowed in petulant grief, 

With bright eyes filling fast, 
He saucily said, "Though you send me away, 
ril victor be, at last." 

One day, from the heights of the Castle I gazed 

O'er hopes that used to be. 
O'er years that were dead; then my heavy heart 
said, 
"Give Love the victory." 



186 



A CAROL. 



A CAROL. 



Sing, thou, with all thy harmony of voice, 

Let not one throat be dumb, 
Lift up thy drooping spirit and rejoice 

For lo, the King is come ! 

Lay all thy motives bare ; beneath the sun 

His scepter is thy deeds, 
And every kind and generous action done 

His throne from which He pleads. 

There's joy in every theme, though sadly shown ; 

Man's pity did but gloss 
That greatest ecstasy the world has known, 

The sorrow of the cross. 

From world to world stirred pulses that were still. 
Where suns had ceased to shine ; 



187 



A CAROL. 

All chaos was, 'neath that melodious thrill, 
Made cosmic and divine. 

No distant space that failed to understand 

This passion of the Lord, 
Futurity was circled by His hand 

In one great master-chord. 

Sing ! Sing ! Through all the morning of thy life, 

And sing to greet its night ; 
He finds the harmony within the strife 

Who reads life's score aright. 

Learn from the cognate universe thy song ; 
Thrice blessed he who hears 

And understands the cadence that has long- 
Swung rhythmic round the spheres. 



188 



THE VOYAGERS. 



THE VOYAGERS. 



With oars at rest, content to drift, and dream. 
Responsive swinging where each current sets, 
One idles down the bosom of the stream 
With will of waves no issue to dispute, 
With helm long dropped from hands irresolute. 

Another craft upon the river rides. 
Fast sweeping on beneath each steady stroke, 
With helm hard set against the changing tides ; 
It braves the tortured night, the wind-swept day 
Forever keeping on its charted way. 

To float among the lilies near the shore, 
And build brave plans to reach the harbor lights 
Should danger threaten in the tempest's roar. 
No broken oars, no muscles strained and tired, 
Ah, surely this were way to be desired. 



189 



IN RETROSPECTION. 



A cloud o'ershades the red, low-drooping sun. 
Of him who bared his strong arms to the work 
The storm-gods tell that port was bravely won. 
Of him who dreamed and drifted? Ask the night 
Where now the mast that held his puny light. 



IN RETROSPECTION. 

Could I turn back all the leaves of life, 
Correct the blunders and soothe the strife ; 
Could I blot out every dark deed done, 
Make good each triumph unjustly won ; 
Could I live free from the faults of men, 
I would not. Living my life again, 
I'd do each deed as I did it then. 
This life were surely a tiresome page 
If man, arriving at sour old age. 
Have nothing braver to grace his bier 
Than a prudent life and a just career. 



190 



DON T WORRY. 



DON'T WORRY. 



Though not one of your fanciful schemes conies to 
light. 

Don't you worry ; 
You have had the fond pleasure of thinking they 
might, 

So don't worry. 
Though the page is all blotted and thumb-marked 

and torn, 
There's a God up above who has seen what you've 

borne, 
And who tempers the wind to the lamb that is 
shorn, 

So don't worry. 

Though the bauble you longed for looks cheap in 
your hand, 

Don't you worry ; 



191 



DON T WORRY. 



1 bough you sink where you thought it was yl 
solid land, 

Don't you worry. 
Like the baby, you see the sun's glint on the wall, 
And you struggle to clasp it — you stumble, and fall ; 
Then you find you have gathered a shadow — that's 
ail- 
But don't worry. 

Though the play is played out and the curtain's rung 
down, 

Don't you worry : 
Though the features of life wear a turbulent frown, 

Don't you worry. 
Though the other man wins, and you lose, in the 

race. 
Don't you let the world know : put a smile on your 

face; 
There are always your pistols up there in their case. 
So don't worry. 



192 



THE PESSIMIST. 



THE PESSIMIST. 

There is no rose on the broad, bleak earth 
Worth the labor put forth to raise it ; 
No scarlet mouth, framed in dimpling mirth. 
Worth the breath that it takes to praise it. 

There is no song like the one that's heard 
In the time of a life's beginning; 
No woman's love worth the empty word 
That we waste in its useless winning. 

There is no day with its sordid strife 
Worth the serious thought we give it, 
No passing hour in a careless life 
Worth the trouble it takes to live it. 

Yet pluck the rose while you chance to live, 
Hold your pleasures as you may find them, 
Forget, in joys that those red lips give. 
The grin of the skull behind them. 



193 



TO-DAY S ROYALIST. 



TO-DAY'S ROYALIST 



I'd like to have lived in the time of Queen Bess, 

When duels and battles were rife. 
When swords were the popular form of redress, 

And insults were paid for with life ; 
I'd like to have lived when the commoner dwelt 

Apart, in a world of his own ; 
Have died ere the time that he voiced what he felt 

And placed his own spawn on the throne. 



I'd like to have felt the self-satisfied thrill 

Unlimited power can afford ; 
I'd like to have lived when a gentleman's will 

Was urged at the point of his sword, 
Instead of to-day when "Equality's" rule 

Puts "Rights" in the mouths of the clan, 
When works of the sage can be jeered by the fool. 

When master's no better than man. 



194 



TO-DAY S ROYALIST. 



I'd like to have lived when the ermine embraced 

None other than royalty's form ; 
I'd like to have lived before caste was effaced 

Beneath the mob's leveling storm ; 
I'd like to have lived when the form of restraint 

Held commonwealth under the man, 
And felt what it was to be free from the taint 

Of "Liberty's" plebiscite ban. 



195 



WOMAN. 



WOMAN. 



Believe that yonder stony-hearted shore 
Will spare the ship blown thither by the gale ; 
Believe there's mildness in the ocean's roar 
And gentleness within the tempest's wail ; 
Believe that tigers, thirsting after blood, 
Belie their stripes and let their victims go. 
But ne'er believe when comes misfortune's flood 
That woman will to woman mercv show. 



Wolves fraternize when bent upon attack, 
Their hunting cry holds no discordant note, 
They face a common danger, back to back 
Then, true to nature, tear each other's throat ; 
And not alone on heath and wooded strip 
Does this, the law of fang, aggressive loom ; 
Wolves, wrapped in velvet, rend with thirsting lip 
And wage their wars in every drawing-room. 



196 



WOMAN. 

To breed dissension is in woman born ; 
But some this primal instinct turn aside, 
Affecting charms more suited to adorn 
And 'neath conceits true incHnations hide. 
To seem the thing she's not is woman's care, 
No soul of them from this may stand exempt. 
And none to be her own true self may dare 
Lest she be named an object of contempt. 

Debarred by nature from those rough pursuits 
That outlets are to savagery, each turns 
To rend the other, recking not the fruits 
Of slander and the consequence it earns. 
O, sooner will be found the drop of rain 
When once 'tis lost within the river's flow, 
O, sooner shall the hilltop kiss the plain 
Than woman shall to woman mercy show. 



197 



THE GRANDEST THING. 



THE GRANDEST THING. 

When hope was young and my blood ran rife, 
When homage sweetened the cup of Hfe 

And pride was a flame well fed, 
They asked me what was the grandest thing 
That life could hold or a fortune bring; 
As quick as flashes a swallow's wing 

"To conquer men," I said. 

But now the pale of the after-glow 
Reflects the chastening years of woe. 

Endurance bows my head ; 
"Come, tell us now, for we ask again, 
The grandest, holiest task of men," 
Submission prompting where pride had beten- 

"To conquer self," I said. 



198 



THE PUNISHMENT. 



THE PUNISHMENT. 

Ben Omi stood, with drooping head, 
To hear the final judgment read 
By him who kept the record ; 
The accusations 'neath his name 
Recounted deeds for serious blame — 
A thumb-marked page and checkered. 

"Your sins are great," the angel cried, 

"I know of none who ever died 

"So quite unfit for glory ; 

"No punishment that e'er was writ 

"Could shrive your soul and make it fit 

"For even purgatory, 

"And yet — methinks I'll improvise 

"And name a penalty, unwise, 

"But most intensely human; 

" 'Tis this : Go back to earth and men, 

"Resume the flesh, be born again, 

"And be, this time, a woman !" 



199 



THE PRAYER. 



THE PRAYER. 

Lord, God, hear Thou a suppHant. Abject, 

All crimson-stained, I cringe, lest Thou, in wrath 

At my presumption, raise Thy mighty hand 

And crush the worm that dares to lift its head 

In quiv'ring fear to Thine omnipotence. 

The years Thou gav'st I've drunk like honeyed wine. 

In eager grasp to burning lips and heart 

I've pressed the sweets of life, and drained the 

dregs 
Of every worldly pleasure. Lord, I dare — 
Yea, I ! a lep'rous thing — the crawling things 
Of earth of which art 'shamed — I, dare to come 
Before Thy face. 

Lord, God, hear Thou a suppliant. Outcast, 
World-weary, broken hearted, losing all 
I turn to Thee. . . . 

What's this I've dared to sav? 



200 



THE PRAYER. 



Great One, be blind and deaf, that I may snatch 

This blasphemy from out the Great Beyond 

And plunge it back within my withered heart 

To mock its human selfishness. I turn, 

A thing all foul within, unfit for hell, 

A pigmy that infects Thy universe, 

I turn to Thee when all is lost — Just God! 

I wonder Thou hast spared so vile a thing 

To soil Thy name. 

Emblazon all my sins ; none can there be 
To equal this most human infamy. 

When once again a suppliant I come, 
'Twill be to ask if any good deed done 
Can blot from out the angel's record-page 
This prayer. Amen. 



201 



OF THE NANCY PRYNE. 



OF THE NANCY PRYNE. 

Under the deck of the Nancy Pryne 

The captain sits with his flask of wine. 

A pirate bold and a pirate true 

With a dirk and a sword that would do for you 

A great deal more than you'd want it to. 

He drinks a toast to the surging brine, 
This captain bold of the Nancy Pryne, 
Nor hears the shock of the wind and rain. 
"I buried him deep," comes the loud refrain 
Of the song he sings in a minor strain. 

The captain drowses above his wine 
Nor feels the lash of the stinging brine ; 
The wind moans low in the tortured dark 
And the struggle ends for the straining bark 
In a bit of wreck and some corpses stark. 



203 



OF THIi NANCY PKYNE. 



This Story's trite but the fault's not mine, 
'Tis all that's known of the Nancy Pryne ; 
Next morn the song of the sun-kissed main 
Called forth the gulls that had sheltered lain 
"I buried him deep." was its low refrain. 



103 



bLINDNESS. 



BLINDNESS. 

From sire to sire for such long cheerless time 

Have we accepted tears as heritage, 

And dol'rous droned through lengths of ancient 

rhyme 
With ceaseless sorrow for unchanging theme, 
That life has come to be a weary page 
And joy the phantasm of a fevered dream. 

So long have wrappings of unyielding gloom 
Close-swathed the heart, that we resent the word 
Which pleads for happiness this side the tomb. 
For us no note of earth must vibrant rise ; 
For us the nearer music to be heard 
Is lost in seeking that of distant skies. 

We call him pagan who in gladness strips 
From glowing truth the dull, dogmatic sheath, 
And kisses pleasure full upon the lips ; 



304 



BLINDNESS. 



We call him Christian who embraces care. 

Who hunts the thorns to weave in crowning 

wreath — 
For heaven more fit if girded by despair. 

We leave the brilliant substance for the wraith, 
And deem him sainted by conjoint acclaim 
Who wears a smileless face in show of faith. 
Like mewling children, of the dark afraid, 
We cling to crude supports, abstruse and lame. 
And keep to doleful covenants, self-made. 

When will the sons of men, as one agreed, 
Consent to read the word that shines above 
Unbound by dwarfing hindrances of creed? 
When will the fallacies to which we cling 
Be merged in one great universal love? 
When will we say "The Father," not "The King?" 



205 



THE AWAKENING. 



THE AWAKENING. 

I loved a man ; the image fair 

Of all the good the world contained 

I pictured him. From out my heart 

The essence of a love divine 

I poured upon my rose-decked god, 

And sin by sin I sacrificed 

Myself upon his altar. 

One day impoverished, abashed 

Before my idol's face I stood. 

And whispered low that all I had 

To give was given : My woman's heart 

Beat gently sweet, I raised my eyes, 

And lo ! upon that perfect brow 

Satiety sat wearily. 



206 



AN OLD LETTER CASE. 



AN OLD LETTER CASE. 

On your surface, old and tattered, 
Rest small cupids, ink-bespattered. 
Clasp is gone and lock is shattered. 

Faintly, as I lift the cover. 
Perfume seems to rise and hover 
Close, like words of some old lover. 

Tired, or fearful of derision. 
Here a hand has, with precision, 
Struck a name from curious vision. 

Had you voice would words be teeming 
Of a love that proved but seeming. 
Idle hope and foolish dreaming? 

Old the story, old the sorrow, 
Nothing new of love we borrow. 
True to-day and false to-morrow. 

207- 



AN OLD LETTER CASE. 



Quaint old box, how reads your story ? 
Fancies crowd, and tinge with glory 
Life that was ere you grew hoary. 

Leather worn and satin tattered, 

Cupids, roses, ink-bespattered — 

Like your owner's dreams — all shattered. 



208 



COMPANIONS, 



COMPANIONS. 

We two; with no rival to come between 

To the death of your ruddy fire ; 
I have you and my book and an easy chair, 
And the pictures you paint for me over there ; 
And no maid that ever the world has seen 
Can mar the peace that we share, I ween ; 

Myself, and my old black brier. 

What secrets we have and what nopes divide 

And what sprites of the past invoke ! 
There are shades of forgotten and dead desire, 
There are lips that e'en rival your scarlet fire. 
And the coal that presses your blackened side 
Seems not more real than the forms that glide 
Through haze of your curling smoke. 

We two ; with a book and an easy chair 
And the cheer of a glowing fire! 



209 



COMPANIONS. 



With the peace of your comradeship all about. 
With the noise and the stress of the world shut out, 
We can scoff at sorrow and smile at care 
And dream of deeds that the bravest dare ; 
Myself, and my old black brier. 



810 



I THANK THEE. 



I THANK THEE. 

For fortitude to turn harsh words aside ; 
For force of will to humble stubborn pride ; 
For strength of heart to bear the biting scorn 
And arrogance of one beneath me born ; 
For power to hide the hate within my breast; 
For outward calm to mask a mind distressed ; 
For dogged patience to abide the time 
When I could claim revenge as wholly mine. 
Yes, gratefully, I render thanks to Thee 
For power, at last, to crush my enemy. 



2X1 



TO MANUELA. 



TO MANUELA. 

Manana ? No. The light that's speaking 

In your eyes 
Is the answer I am seeking. 

Maiiana? TaHsman for sorrow, 

Not for love; 
Love may die before to-morrow. 

And when 'tis dead we may deride it — 

Who shall know? — 
Laugh when we should weep beside it. 

Manana? No. Ahora ; cherished, 

Lotus-breathed^ 
Lived, before 'tis past and perished. 



Hi 



THE LIFE OF YESTERDAY. 



THE LIFE OF YESTERDAY. 

What is the use of the toil and striving 
And what will matter the tear and smile, 
The well laid plan and the deep contriving, 
When lost in the dusk of the after-while? 

Why fret the flesh with an unhealed sorrow? 
The world wants laughter, it shares no grief, 
Why slight to-day for a vague to-morrow 
That shadows all hope for the soul's relief? 

Sweet were the faith to believe and cherish 
This life a spark strayed from parent flame. 
To hold no fear that its light will perish — 
Instead of the darkness, the unknown name. 

Saddest of all is to know, at parting, 

The grief is mine, that the world holds none. 

To know the blush of the dawn's faint starting 

Will shed its red glory on all — save one. 



213 



THE LIFE OF YESTERDAY. 



If there be friend who shall mourn my going, 
Though grieved my loss in a single breath, 
'Twill send a thrill through my poor clay glowing 
And out of the grave snatch the chill of death. 



214 



THE NEW YEAR BELL. 



THE NEW YEAR BELL. 

Within the music of the New Year Bell, 

I hear a note of triumph rise and swell ; 

I hear its rhythmic harmony repeat 

The laughter of a maiden true and sweet ; 

Attending close upon the vibrant air 

Comes quivering discord of a past despair ; 

Then, lightly leaping from its metal throat, 

The arbitrary schoolboy's careless note ; 

With trembling pathos, an adagio slow. 

Deep-voiced and solemn, tells a mother's woe. 

The chimes ring soft, in ecstasy divine, 

I feel a baby's fingers close in mine ; 

Then, sweet and clear a cadence speeds along 

That brings to mind a singer — and a song. 

I hide my foolish tears as memories swell 

In true accord with music of the bell. 



215 



LOVE'S REIGN. 

Poor, halting thing that creeps a little way 
Low-bowed beneath its burden of neglect; 
It clasps the broken hopes of yesterday 
And trails dead flowers with which its form was 
decked. 

Tear-marked the face that lifts with pleading eyes. 
The lips beg tol'rance of their latest breath ; 
Impatiently we bear reproachful sighs 
And chafe beneath its sickening and its death. 

Dry-eyed we look, at last, on pallid lip, 
Relieved, yet half ashamed that pulses sing, 
And while the new-crushed vintages we sip 
Cry out, "The King is dead ; long live the King." 



216 



VVITH NATURC. 



WITH NATURE. 

O, give me the breath of the ocean foam 
Ere the force of the storm be spent ; 

O, give me the width of the world to roam, 

The halt for the night as my only home, 

With my way forever the path apart 

From the haunts mapped out on the toiler's chart. 

To me from the silence is ever lent 

Companionship, when I spread my tent 
In the calm of the desert's heart. 

O, give me the shades of the morning sky 

That reburnish the slopes and rills, 
O, give me the tints where the shadows lie 
Soft-rocked in the sway of the zephyr's sigh 
And I'll crave no boon from the artist's hand 
Though his kindling fame by the world be fanned. 
The glow of the dawn that the heaven fills. 
The quiv'ring light on the sleeping hills 

Are the things that I understand. 



217 



THE POLE-SEEKERS. 



THE POLE-SEEKERS. 



From east to north, as the petrels fly, 
A snow-squall whips through a frozen sky, 
Beneath the swirl of its widening track 
The sea curls up like a dolphin's back, 
'Twixt lift and fall of the seething gale 
White shines the sheet of a ghostly sail. 

O'er sodden decks in a chilling flood 
Sharp bites the tooth of the flying scud, 
The crew stands firm though the plowing keel 
Brooks no restraint from the steering-wheel ; 
Each man so still that the driving sleet 
Enwraps his form like a winding-sheet. 

The vessel swerves with a dip and start 
And sets its course by the captain's chart. 
If mate and crew mark the swift advance 
They give no sign by word or glance. 



>18 



THE POLE-SliEKKKS. 



From rolling seas to a widening slough 
The ship drives on with her silent crew. 

The storm is ceased and the sun-dogs show 

In purpling lights o'er the crusted snow ; 

The wind that whipped through this land of death 

'Twould seem had blown with a Lethean breath, 

For if hours have passed, or if days have sped, 

No soul on board could have truly said. 

Ethereal blue at the bow and stern 

That spreads o'erhead an inverted urn. 

And in the rim of its arching bowl 

The mystic swing of the heavens roll. 

The needle swerves in a circling ring 

And the world is hushed while the planets sing. 

The captain bends o'er his chart and book 
Nor heeds the scene by a transient look. 
Arouse thee, man, for thy work is done. 
The bar is past and the goal is won ! 
But he makes no sign if his dull eyes see. 
Pie is done with earth and its mockery. 



J19 



THE POLE-SEEKERS. 



The ship sweeps on through the wind-tossed sea, 
Through the ice-packed, shoal-ringed, threatening 

sea, 
Till the gray waves break on a storm-worn beach 
And the silence hears but the sea-mew's screech. 
But the sea-mew's screech and the fur-seal's bark. 
And it founders there in the angry dark. 

The pole-star shines with a murky light. 
Like an astral sun, with a frozen light ; 
O'er the glacier beds and the ice-flow's spire 
The auroras flash in a fan of fire, 
And they mock the forms of the corpses stark 
On the ship that died in the outer dark. 

The frost hangs thick on the stove-in hull, 

On the snow-sheathed, wave-pressed, battered hull, 

And the tide bears hard on the weakened beams 

Till it saps the strength of the hemp-calked seams, 

Till it sweeps away every telltale mark, 

Lest a prey be lost to the unknown dark. 



WHEN CHRIST IS RISEN. 



WHEN CHRIST IS RISEN. 

A mystic joy sweeps o'er the drooping world 
Where yesterday a pall of sorrow swirled 
Its solemn length from vale to brow of hill ; 
Each tiny atom sings with quickening thrill 
And Nature cries with one according breath, 
"All hail, 'tis Jesus, King, of Nazereth!" 
But man still questions. Fearful lest his eyes, 
Schooled in deceit, deceive himself, he cries, 
"The proof?" In answer, lo, the bleeding hands. 
What creeping life so pitiful as man's? 
The word was given him for a higher goal 
Else this last shame had forfeited his soul. 



221 



THE STAR. 



THE STAR. 

The night shut in with black and threatening 

frown 
When o'er my troubled world the sun went down, 
Forebodings marked the time with vague distress 
That bound me prisoner to hopelessness, 
And darkness seemed more fearful to my sight 
From having known the glory of the light. 

The hours dragged on ; I raised my drooping 

head 
But not in hope, I knew the sun was dead, 
And planned no life beyond the black expanse 
When, lo, I saw a wondrous light advance 
That glowed and grew until it filled the skies. 
I stood and gazed with yearning, doubting eyes. 

No more does hope's hurt wing trail idly down, 
No more does night shut in with threatening 
frown, 



222 



THE STAR. 



I grieve no more because the sun is gone. 
Hold no regret for yesterday's lost dawn, 
But bless the salient gloom that reached afar, 
For else how had I ever found the star? 



233 



THE INEVITABLE. 



THE INEVITABLE. 

Christ is born to-day. Sad heart 

Look up, and hope. 
Those who kneel and still their cries 
Do not know that in His eyes 
Shadow of a cross there lies. 

Love is born to-day. My heart 

Look up, and hope. 
Sweet content is all about ; 
But the life blood will drip out, 
Some day, on a cross of doubt. 



S34 



TO ETHEL. 



TO ETHEL. 

The heart's emotion finds no way to speak 
So poor is man in gifts, in words so weak, 
And gratitude within the throbbing breast 
Must ever rest there only half expressed. 

Unskilled I stand to cope with what I feel 
So strange this element new joys reveal, 
My heart though not unknown to lighter mood 
Is all unused to this of gratitude. 

In other moments I have found the word 
Through which to make some deep emotion heard, 
Now falt'ring tongue lacks power to overcome 
Its own incompetence, and so lies dumb. 

Not from ungratefulness, although I claim 
No more of sentiment than others name. 
From lack of rivulets to feed the spring 
Its waters long have ceased to purl and sing. 



225 



TO ETHEL. 

But now it gushes out in force anew ; 
That this is so, I render thanks to you. 
One sweet, good woman down my path has trod 
To make this barren earth seem nearer God. 



226 



DESECRATION. 



DESECRATION. 



Ferret them out — ferret them out, 
Label the pkinder and hawk it about. 
Dip grasping fingers deep into the dark, 
Draw from its cover each skeleton stark, 
Secrets, and papers, and letters, long penned, 
The dead would have given his blood to defend ; 
No incident leave to the mercy of doubt, 
Ferret them out — ferret them out. 



This is the work for the daughter, the wife, 
Friend that the dead man has trusted in life. 
Each holds some mem'ry of weakness confessed, 
Confidence given when heart was distressed ; 
These trundle out for the crowd's curious eyes. 
If sacred the trust, then the greater the prize. 
Rest not in your effort till you have unfurled 
All that the dead has kept close from the world. 



227 



DESECRATION. 



Here is a page where his soul was laid bare, 
Every word wild with a heart's great despair, 
Penned here are thoughts that were never revealed 
While he had life and his lips were unsealed ; 
Locked in the grave, lacking power to protest, 
Quick-seized is the prize and for barter is dressed. 
Ye merciless Vandals with talons of greed 
Drag out his heart that the vultures may feed. 



328 



ON THE TAMALPAIS SLOPE. 



ON THE TAMALPAIS SLOPE. 

There's an amber light a-quiver on the eucalyptus 
trees. 
There's a splash of fiery crimson tints the wood, 
And the tiny brook speaks softly to the perfume- 
laden breeze 
That replies as though it plainly understood. 

From beneath the leaf strewn brush-pile there is 

seen a wary nose 

Peeping out in nervous caution and affright 

Ere its owner ventures yonder to a spot where 

breakfast grows 

With the dew left fresh upon it by the night. 

As a touch of quiet sadness marks the song the 
martin sings 
Near the old nest, long deserted in the glen, 
So do hearts imbued with sorrow ever turn where 
mem'ry clings 
And in fancy live their happiness again. 



229 



ON THE Tx\MALPAIS SLOPE. 



There's a power that turns us ever to'ard the helpful 
light of hope 
Though the chief est of our projects totter clown, 
And my guiding star is yonder on the Tamalpais 
slope 
When I sink beneath the tumult of the town. 



830 



HIS ANSWER. 



HIS ANSWER. 

Do I love you? I do, if distrust can be love; 
If the fear that I feel when I press your warm hand 
That you'd grant the same favor to some other man 
Were the time but auspicious, and I out of sight ; 
If the certainty, here, in my heart, that your glance 
Will caress me then turn to some other, perchance 
Who has merited less what I deem as my right; 
If the madness that throbs when I feel your embrace, 
And despair that o'erpowers when I look in your 

face. 
Irresponsible, weak, vacillating, untrue — 
If a certain contempt that steals into my breast 
When the overwrought senses are stilled and at 

rest 
Can be love, then, I answer you, yes, that I do. 



231 



tHE GOLDEN GATE. 



THE GOLDEN GATE. 

The sun sinks low and the hour grows late, 
The clouds drift in through the Golden Gate ; 
The sea-gulls dip with a whirl and cry, 
They scan the earth and they scan the sky, 
They dart and whirl with a restless wing. 
Nor trust the song that the breakers sing; 
They know the purr of the mighty sea 
Presages acts of its treachery ; 
Beneath the droning so soft and low 
They feel the breath of the tempest blow. 

A mother prayed till the hour grew late, 
"Bring my boy safe home through the Golden 
Gate." 

A troubled ship on the wave is seen, 
Her sails are bright with a silvery sheen. 
She plows her way through the salty deep, 
While mighty waves o'er her bulwarks leap; 



232 



tHE GOLDEN GAtfi. 



The tempest's finger points out her course, 
She swerves and follows with fateful force; 
She trembles, hesitates, rushes, dips, 
Her white-faced crew with their salt-washed lips 
Nor fear nor care for the wind-swept sea, 
They sleep the sleep of eternity. 

A mother prayed till the hour grew late — 
And her boy went Home, through the Golden 
Gate. 



S33 



IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD. 



IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD. 



What do they dream of down in their beds 

Lowly and still, 

With the echoless sound of the languorous rill 
Tinkling in cadences liquid and soft 
Through the night at their feet and the night at 

their heads? 
Deep in the dusk of this silent spot 
What is remembered and what forgot? 



What do they hold of hope and regret, 

Laughter and pain — 

Is there naught to disturb but the drip of the rain 
Stealing to cheeks that lie pallid and chill? 
What of memory clings where the soul would for- 
get? 
Silent the lips where a song was heard, 
Silence where once spoke a deathless word. 



234 



IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD. 

This one who Hes here, think yon he knows 

Day is above? 

From the cypress near by come the notes of a 
dove 
TelHng his passion full-plaintive and sweet ; 
Kind were the song if the poor clay glows 
Thrilling again to a love once known 
Ere the dark moss o'er the heart had grown. 



Linger awhile and fellowship keep 

Him who is lone ; 

Here no trace of a flower or the mark of a stone 
Ventures dispute with the tangle of briars 
That speak hoarse in the wind of the one that lies 

deep, 
Wrapt in the dusk of this tranquil spot 
Haply forgetting, and long forgot. 



235 



THE MAN AND WOMAN OF IT. 



THE MAN AND WOMAN OF IT. 

"My vase is broken," she trembling said ; 
The tears fell fast and she drooped her head 
"With tender touch I will mend it true, 
And make believe it's as good as new." 

"My vase is broken," he calmly said ; 
"But I'll buy another one instead ; 
One just as pretty and just as good, 
And put it there where the old one stood." 



236 



WILL YOU RECALL ME? 



V/ILL YOU RECALL ME. 



How will it be 

After the infinite pain of the parting, 

The tears and the sorrow ? 

After we've crushed each regret at its starting, 

After the night of the old day's departing 

When dawns the tomorrow, 

How will the world look to you and to me ? 

How will it be? 

Will we forget 

Things we have loved and from which we must 

sever, 
Small objects of treasure. 

Dingy, dear books we have conned well together ; 
Trifles of love we have kept through all weather 
That happiness measure ; 
Things over which love and labor have met. 
Will we forget? 



337 



WILL YOU RECALL ME? 



When all is done, 

When our hearts, quickened by stress of their 

aching, 
Prompt lips to dissemble, 
Teaching them smiles, while beneath hearts are 

breaking. 
Making them prate of the new dawn's awaking — 
Then, dear, should I tremble. 
Will you recall me, when hope I have none, 
When all is done? 



>38 



APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE. 



APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE. 

What were the summer, stripped of all its bloom ? 
What were the world, denying idlers room ? 
The serious faces of the spinners left 
Affrighting one another in the gloom. 

Who finds his work in life where pleasure lies, 
Who feasts, though he at last of famine dies, 
Can say that he has lived though he may hold 
No fleeting bauble that the frugal prize. 

Utility and beauty seldom mate, 
And he who turns the idle from his gate 
Perchance but cuts the lily from its stem 
To leave his garden bare and desolate. 

When indolence would plead its own defense 
Turn not away in pride of eminence ; 



239 



APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE. 



The drone and worker find the common goal 
And lie in lengths of equal consequence. 

Withhold the condemnation that would fling 
The cloak of silence o'er the hearts that sing, 
The word of cheer, though voiced by careless lips, 
Is ever to be held a priceless thing. 



240 



THE MISER S SONG. 



THE MISER'S SONG. 

My heart is old, is old, is old, 
Its warmth went out with a dream untold. 
The blood drips slow through each mangled fold- 
I heal the hurt with the balm of gold. 
Of gold, of gold. 

My heart is old, is old, is old. 
Is hard and withered, and dead and cold ; 
Where once the blood of my pulses rolled 
Now surges greed for the yellow gold. 
For gold, for gold. 

My heart is old, is old, is old, 
And dark and heavy as churchyard mold ; 
For I, like Judas, have smiled, and sold 
My friend, and God, for a piece of gold. 
Of gold, of gold. 



241 



LIFE. 



LIFE. 

I saw a rose in a garden fair, 

A scarlet rose, that I longed to wear ; 

I begged that Fate would generous be 

And give the beautiful rose to me. 

She shook her head in assumed regret 

And answered, softly, "Not yet, not yet." 

The rose's petals beneath the sun 

Unfolded, tenderly, one by one, 

Its rarest leaves were at last unfurled 

And shed their glory upon the world ; 

I asked again, but again I met 

The same denial, "Not yet, not yet." 

One day, the color began to fade, 

The scarlet turned to a deeper shade, 

The petals fluttered upon the air — 

Its life was over, the stem lay bare. 

All through my life I have known the pain, 

The harsh derision of this refrain, 

This mournful dirge of a life's regret. 

This mocking echo, "Not yet, not yet." 



242 



FINIS. 



FINIS. 

Around was the evening's twilight glow, 
He softly whispered, "I love you so," 
Lip pressed to lip in warm caress, 
Two hearts aglow with happiness. 

Over the hill in a churchyard gray 
The grass grows rank in a wanton way, 
The water oozes, trickles and glides, 
'Round the husband's bed the earth-worm 

hides. 
The dank mold quivers on lip and chin, 
The worms creep out and the worms creep in. 

The bells ring out on the sunlit air, 
The bride is young and the bride is fair. 
The world is throbbing with love and life 
The bridegroom hastens to kiss his wife — 
An ashen pallor o'erspreads her face. 
The dead man stands in her lover's place. 



m 



FINIS. 

The vision is gone — she breathes again, 
The minister says, "Till death, Amen." 
The dead goes back to the dead once more 
As far, as close, as he was before, 
And holds his vigil all grim and drear 
Till her conscience cries, "Appear, appear," 

In a cozy room all warm and bright, 

A cheerful sight on a winter's night, 

A whispering low, "Alone, at last," 

Is caught and whirled on the icy blast — 

"Alone, alone," it whistles and moans 

And scurries away to the graveyard stones ; 

It snaps the twigs with its chilling breath 

And dances the frantic dance of death ; 

"Alone, alone," it hisses and shrieks — 

The green slime freezes on lips and cheeks. 

Through the clustering curls, the mouth's wide 

grin. 
The worms creep out and the worms creep in. 



244 



LOVE S ABERRATION. 



LOVE'S ABERRATION. 

She stands beside you but in spirit kneels 
And worships at your feet such love she feels ; 
Her melting heart grows faint beneath its bliss 
And glorifies its weakness through a kiss. 
She smiles, and you from your exalted place, 
Bend down to share the heaven in her face. 

What subtle change is this you now behold? 
What listless form your coaxing arms enfold? 
You chide that she is heedless of your sigh 
And meets your glance with cold and vacant eye. 
What have you done ? O, nothing much amiss, 
You've called her Kate, that's all, while she's 
Liliss. 



245 



tiROPING. 



GROPING. 

The page of yesterday — how strange the way 

In which its lines were filled, 

How changed the import of the deeds we willed 
Seen through the consequences of to-day. 

The stone that rests upon the mountain-slope 

Is harmless in its bed ; 

A word is but a word until 'tis said, 
Then 'tis the avalanche that buries hope. 

We turn the thumb-marked leaf; our cares and 
strife 
That have so sore distressed 
We try to bury in a contrite breast 

And seek to write a cleaner page for life. 

But, somehow, when 'tis done and conscience wakes 

To run the items o'er, 

We find the same temptations as before. 
The same backslidings and the old mistakes. 

246 



THE GALLEY SLAVE. 



THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 

To wofk ; to weep ; to struggle ; to endure ; 
To look through tears upon a life's mistake ; 
To feel forbidden pleasures tempt and lure ; 
To loathe the ties 'twere indiscreet to break; 
To gaze upon the coffined corpse of love 
With dry, hard eyes ; to drain the cup of gall ; 
No help below, no hope from heaven above, 
Just vacancy and numbness over all ; 
To have, to hold, to tire, and then, to hate ; 
To burn the heart out longing to be free ; 
This makes up life for that sad child of Fate 
Who mourns beside a cold, dead ecstasv. 



247 



BARRIERS. 



BARRIERS. 

Shadow thou art ; a dream of my heart 

Forever beyond me. 

I may not press you 

Close to my breast; may not love and caress you. 

The passionate glow 

Lighting your eyes 'gainst your reason and will 

Sent through my being an answering thrill, 

Transient and swift 

As light through a rift ; 

Not until then could we measure the cost — 

Eden forbidden, elvsium lost. 



248 



TO THE OLD YEAR. 



TO THE OLD YEAR. 

How privileged are you, Old Year, 

Behold, when life is through, 
You change the reading of your name 

And issue forth anew. 

The follies left within the past, 

Mistakes that you deplore, 
Are dead within their hidden graves, 

And visited no more. 

You snatch the rose from pleasure's bush 

Forgetting where it grew ; 
You keep no cup when it is drained — 

Ah, how I envy you. 

New life comes swift on pealing chimes 

With smiles of kindly fate, 
Lo, through the holly's mystic fire 
You are regenerate. 



249 



TO THE OLD YEAR. 



I would that I might leave, like you, 
This body, weak with age. 

And as a child begin again 
Upon an unsoiled page. 



2.')0 



A CHILD OF NATURE. 



A CHILD OF NATURE. 

On the mountain's crest, 
Where the eagles nest, 

I recHne at ease, 
And my hps are kissed 
By the passing mist 

And the wanton breeze. 

Unrestrained I laugh 
As a draught I quaff 

From a rippling stream, 
And I feel the thrill 
Of unbridled will 
Like a sweet, wild dream- 

In the town off there 
In the sultry air 

Are the fools at work, 
And I drink their health 
In the torrent's wealth 

With a quip and quirk. 

251 



LIFE S MIRAGE. 



LIFE'S MIRAGE. 

Within my bruised heart the night of life 
Let down the sombre curtain of the past 

Dull-leaded with despair ; 
Within the gray and ambient gloom 

Sat sullen sorrow ; 
The blackest hour had come when, lo, a light 
Illumined all the barren, arid waste 

And Hope stood trembling there. 
I dared not trust ; I dared not lift my head ; 
In awe, I whispered, "What art thou?" 

She said, 

"I am the everlasting dawn 

Of life's to-morrow." 



IN THE SHADY PLACES. 



IN THE SHADY PLACES. 

In the shady places, 

That the hand of man has not yet polluted 

Where the right of way still lies undisputed 

With the speaking wild, 

I have listened long to the distant reapers 

As their cries come faint through the flow 'ring 

creepers ; 
In the shady places. 

In the shady places 

I at times have knelt in my soul's disquiet 

With my blood aflame in tumultuous riot 

O'er a stinging wrong ; 

And the silence, keen to the grief I smother. 

Calms my deep distress like a tender mother ; 

In the shady places. 

In the shady places 

Where the fragrance, faint, from the moist earth 
rises 



253 



IN THE SHADY PLACES. 



And the winding path hides its glad surprises 
Like a sportive child, 

There I turn my steps when the world oppresses 
And I find the balm for my heart-distresses ; 
In the shady places. 



g54 



THE POETIC CHOIR. 



"THE POETIC CHOIR." 

They, jointly in the critic's comment share, 
Co-working lest oblivion swallow all. 
And stand together 'neath the wondering sun 
Like severed fractions that are brought to bear 
In entities uniting to make one. 

"Thus," each has dreamed ; and, "thus," the dream 

was done. 
And, "thus," each praise to Eros has outpoured; 
The theme is clear, although the text be dense, 
And needs no foot-notes where the burdens run. 
Unless annexed to palliate offense. 

Poor Muse ! When will a song transcendent rise 
To drown the carping travesties long borne. 
That shall with beauty hold the listener dumb 
And waft the winged word that never dies? 
When will a closes to thy bondage come? 



355 



LEST WE GROW TOO CONTENT. 



LEST WE GROW TOO CONTENT. 

Lest we grow too content, 

Lest the joys of the world make the pain of re- 
gretting 
To leave it too keen, we have sorrows that, fretting 
Our souls with their cankerous gnawing, are given 
Lest we grow too content. 

As the pendulum swings 

So our lives, ever pendent 'twixt laughter and 

Sorrow, 
Today swing in light and in darkness tomorrow ; 
The tears or the joys may be cut with the stroke 
As the pendulum swings. 



256 



UNCERTAINTY. 



UNCERTAINTY. 

Where will you be ; in the midst of the throng 
Close to the path that I travel along, 

Or aside in the quiet 
Shunning the echo of laughter and song? 

How shall I know you ; by softly breathed word, 
Thrilling the depths of the heart that has heard, 

Or by some subtle power 
Potent as hope held in longings deferred? 

When we have met shall we bury these years, 
Dead 'neath the flood of our penitent tears, 

And by tacit consenting 
Stifle the pain of our doubts and our fears? 

Where I now wander perhaps you abide ; 
Or, you perhaps may have passed at my side 

And have called in your passing; 
You may have called, and I may have denied. 



257 



FALLACIES. 



FALLACIES. 

We do the thing most foreign to our will, 
We rise in grief, and lay us down in pain. 
We crave the joy from which we must abstain 
And crush desires that would our being thrill ; 
With fate we combat in unequal strife 
And call it life. 

We build a heaven where peace invites the soul ; 
And earthly dreams long merged in shad'wy wraith, 
Gain substance in proportion to our faith 
As, sanguine, we approach the final goal 
To greet each ardent hope with bated breath. 
And call it death. 



258 



REGENERATION. 



REGENERATION. 

I know not when it died, this love of mine, 
Its Hfe sHpped out so quietly at last 
When all its fevered suffering was past 
And fate, full gently, cut the fretted thread. 
My grief was hushed as though by touch divine, 
And I could scarce believe that love was dead. 

Such pain it has endured and yet lived on ! 
It seemed that censure from unbridled will. 
Full with contempt, had lost the power to kill 
So long the pulse-throb beat with steady stroke. 
New crosses crushed the heart that tried anon 
To lift the weight and, in the effort, broke. 

Now love is dead what shall we do, my heart; 
Kneel down within the shadow of our grief 
And beg of heaven encompassing relief? 
Thus be it then — our joy was dearly bought. 
From this dead life we'll let a new life start, 
Grown wiser by the lesson we are taught. 



259 



HERE AND THERE, 



HERE, AND THERE. 

To be over yonder where fresh from the grasses 
The fragrance blows softly o'er dew-laden hills, 
To catch the quick word of the wind as it passes 
And hear the low answer from murmuring rills, 
To feel the salt kiss of the neighboring ocean, 
To thrill to each pleasure that Nature can give, 
Ah, this is the acme of human emotion, 
Ah, this is to live. 

To know that the herald of day is o'erflushing 
The meadows that wake to the glow in the east, 
That every soft cloud in the heaven is blushing 
Like cheeks of a maid from a lover releast, 
To cage up the heart in a smoke-begirt city 
And strive, ever vainly, to stifle its cry, 
Ah, this is misfortune deserving of pity, 
Ah, this is to die. 



860 



WHERE ALL IS VANITY, 



WHERE ALL IS VANITY. 

How smiles the world where yesterday it frowned 
And spurned with disapproval ways and means 
By which we sought to have our efforts crowned. 

How smiles the world when we have found success, 
How servilely it seeks the master-hand 
When it has lost the grime of weariness. 

When heights are gained, when over tortuous ways 

Yet trails the smoke of hourly sacrifice, 

How trite seem plaudits and how empty praise. 

What voice that now approves but had assailed 

And cried its condemnation to the skies 

H chance had so decreed and we had failed? 

Where lies the joy to know, should fortune frown, 
That these who are the loudest in our praise 
Will be the first to rend and pull us down? 



26X 



WHERE ALL IS VANITY. 



Thrice blessed he, who. in some lonely spot 
Apart from ways and mockeries of men, 
Forgets the world and is, by it, forgot. 



?6g 



A SPECTATOR. 



A SPECTATOR. 

Recalling all the sad, unfruitful years, 
The hopes long faded and the joys long dead. 
And pausing where the ghost of mem'ry leers 
I drink again the gall of useless tears. 

An empty life, as rayless as that doom 

Which dogs the unbeliever to the grave. 

Or like those flowers that droop within the gloom 

To powdered dust on some neglected tomb ! 

One said to me: "My life has been as thine, 
"All aims were thwarted, motives misconstrued, 
"The cup held poison where I thought was wine; 
"I gathered stones where gems had seemed to shine 

"And had despaired, but voices seemed to say 
" The way of thy salvation lies in this, 
" 'Take up thy cross, and so, from day to day, 
" 'Become more worthy of the higher way.' " 



S03 



A SPECTATOR. 



Thus each man has his concepts to defend, 
Each, groping, wraps about him some beHef; 
On Hfe we each a serious int'rest bend 
All fearful yet all hopeful for the end. 



264 



THE ELUSIVE. 



THE ELUSIVE. 

I am that hope held sacred at the start 

Of love's desire ; 
I am that dream that fades, when dies 

Its smoldering fire. 

I am that sweet, evasive music heard 

Above the theme : 
I am the soul, intangible, 

Of things that seem. 

I am that subtle longing most of all 

Misunderstood ; 
That joy men seek to hold within 

A jess and hood. 

Some bubble ever floats beyond the hand, 

For which man sighs ; 
Some ignis fatuus ever lures, 

For which he dies. 



265 



THE ELUSIVE. 



Illusion all. No heart, that knows the full 

Of love most prized, 
But still, close-hidden, holds sonic dream 

Unrealized. 



3«56 



WITH LOVE AT YOUR SIDE. 



WITH LOVE AT YOUR SIDE. 

With love at your side. 

You steer your small craft 'gainst a pitiless tide, 
You brave every channel destructive and deep, 
And laugh as the breakers in impotence leap 
And baffled, fall back. You can safely deride 
All impudent evil with love at your side. 

With love at your side. 

The darkest and narrowest pathway seems wide ; 

The sober old earth and the gray sky above 

Is warmed, and kept bright, by the sunshine of love. 

No effort seems fruitless, no joy seems denied 

Who travels the world and has love at his side. 



36T 



WOMAN S DESTINY. 



WOMAN'S DESTINY. 



Man's heart's a vase and woman is the flower 
That sheds a fragrance through the passing hour ; 
She sees love turn to duty, illy done. 
Herself no longer wooed now she is won 
And destiny, in sullen mood, at last 
Conspire to write her name within the past. 

When youth and maid set out upon their way, 
Their faces turned toward the dawning day 
Of new born love, she striving to forget 
That o'er another's heart their lips have met — 
Some woman who, perchance, has heard his vow 
With soul as full of trust as hers is now — 
She stills the errant thought within her breast 
And seeks to stifle doubts but half confessed. 

When dawn no longer holds the tint of rose 
And morning into noon of passion grows, 



268 



WOMAN S DESTINY. 



She muses on the times when he has kept 
Love's Hght aHve in hearts now dead, unwept, 
And fearful lest she reach this common goal 
Close scans his face in bitterness of soul, 
Till in his glance morose, disconsolate, 
She reads the first prognostic of her fate. 

Poor, helpless woman, born to be undone. 
Butt of all evil, recognizing none ; 
Men censure her for weakness out of hand 
Condemning in her that they most demand. 
Perforce she must pretend the thing she's not 
Until her soul rebels against her lot ; 
She calls, but lo, the gulf of sex is wide, 
And she, a helpless bark upon its tide. 

Like restless beetles, on a summer's night. 
Turned from their pastimes by a fatal light, 
Are women, battering their better sense 
Against established laws of precedents ; 
Though they succeed and gain the thing they will 
What profit it ? they're slaves to Nature still ; 
Their lot will be as it has ever been. 
To trust, to be deceived, to trust again. 



269 



YOU WHO LOVE ME. 



YOU WHO LOVE ME. 

You who love me, let me know it, 

Let your smiles and hand-clasps show it, 

Be not meager in your giving, 

Kindness makes our lives worth living. 

Youth is sweet and old age mellow 

Cheered by words of some good fellow. 

Wait not till the grave has bound me 
Ere you place your gifts around me, 
Little will I reck of weeping 
When chill death is vigil keeping; 
So, while skies are bright above me. 
Here's to those who show thev love me. 



270 



l£ARTH-LOVE. 



EARTH-LOVE. 

'Tis not the saddest thing 

That we must one day lay the volume down. 

Its page unfinished and its aim unguessed; 

The saddest thing is not Fate's sudden frown. 

And not the loss of something that has blessed; 

'Tis not the leaving of some love long known. 

Nor yet the dreams that have familiar grown 

And not within the grave is held the sting, 

But in the thought that this fair earth will lie 

Tomorrow and tomorrow 'neath the sky, 

As fair as now, indifferent to our loss. 

Sore need have we of faith to bear such cross. 

That ways well loved shall smile for us no more 

And yet remain in beauty as before — 

This were the saddest thing. 



271 



A DAY DREAM. 



A DAY DREAM. 



Over yonder near the shore-line there's a 

sea-gull slowly flying, 
Drifting gently on the bosom of the land 

breeze from the hills, 
And he steeps within its fragrance all his 

senses, none denying, 
Till his brain is strangely heavy and his 

bosom sweetly thrills. 



Over yonder near the shore-line I, in fancy, 

see the luster 
Of the ardent sunshine streaming on the 

hills serene, and brown, 
And my vagrant heart is resting where the 

redwoods thickly cluster. 
While my body lingers, helpless, in the 

smoke-encircled town. 



272 



A DAY DREAM. 



I've a fervid, wanton longing for a spot I 

know out yonder, 
'Tis a little sun-kissed picture that I paint 

when world-oppressed. 
And I dream that I through fragrance of a 

phantom garden wander 
Where, in fancy, I've a cabin and, in fancy, 

am at rest. 



273 



QUATRAINS. 



QUATRAINS. 

Live not within the past; compute the cost 
Then burn, without regret, the bridges crossed. 
Sweet yesterday! A diamond past all price 
That slipped from out its setting and is lost. 

What one had plucked the rose if he had seen 
The thorns concealed beneath its tender green? 
What tears were saved if forecast could be made- 
Tears would be saved, but lost the joys between. 

Hold no regret ; what has been done, is done. 

Nor all the waters that to oceans run 

Shall blot the folly from a single act 

O'er fraught with consequences we would shun. 

Quench not the flame because you feel the fire; 
Fear not to voice in prayer to-day's desire 
Because the answered prayer of yesterday 
Exposed the dross to which you would aspire. 



274 



QUATRAINS. 

Be not too proud in virtue yet untried, 
Chance may discover flaws that good deeds hide, 
And many a prude a wanton's heart has housed 
Yet hved in virtue and in virtue died. 

Before great Midas men as slaves kneel down 
To cry him perfect ; but, let fortune frown 
Lo, all turn scoflfers where they lately praised 
And see but ass's ears upon a clown. 

How prized is gift of wit with whicn to lead 
And foresight to discern the prurient need ; 
But prestige oft sits throned on emptiness. 
The way of conquest is where vultures feed. 

Lift one above the welter of the sty, 
Drag one to dross of earth from out the sky. 
Each still himself remains through change of time 
Proclaimed by earmarks ye shall know him by. 

Who thinks that wealth lies in the vein of gold, 
And power within the royal ermine's fold, 
A child is who has heard the mother's voice 
But missed the meaning of the story told. 



375 



QUATRAINS. 



Think not to shirk the problems writ of fate, 
Apportioned labors lengthen by debate, 
Heaven tolerates no sluggard who has held 
The lesson of his life too intricate. 



WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY. 



WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY. 



With you to show the way, 

To break the path and make it clear of thorns, 

To help bewildered reason to the light. 

To set, and guide, poor blundering feet aright, 

With you as pilot, over any sea 

Not known before, the course would easy be; 

The world seems filled with naught but what adorns, 

With you to show the way. 



With you to show the way 

How helpless and dependent have I grown; 

I fear to venture lest I stray afar 

And, wandering back to paths where sorrows are. 

Again be lost within their Stygian gloom. 

What weave the Fates upon their shadowy loom ? 

Must I, in some dread hour, walk on alone, 

With none to show the way? 



277 



WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY. 



How, then, will seem the way? 

The flowers will all be dead, the birds all dumb ; 

The well-loved paths, close-hidden from the throng, 

Will all repeat my dead heart's funeral song, 

I could not bear to look on things once shared — 

One may not go and leave the other spared, 

So, tarry but a little till I come 

And show me, still, the way. 



278 



,?R 12 teo6 




^ 



LIHKAHY Ul- I^UNtjHtbb 



iilliilliiilllliillillllililljlllillilliliilliiilili 

020 994 453 4 



